Lost Generation

Fright is familiar and death too common

Bullets are shot through drunken bodies

The war has awakened the good old demon

The short-timers became creepy-crawlies

The great war has proved thirsty and hungry

The profiteers were after their money

The backliners wouldn't stop the production

Of the weapons of the lost generation

Though they went on the path to glory

The short-timers ended up in the trenches

And there sure was no room for mercy

So many corpses but so few inches

Nothing new on the Western front

They swore it should be the last blow

Suddenly the earth stopped to grunt

There sure will be no jam tomorrow

The backlines wouldn't stop the production

Of the weapons of the last generation