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Say It with Flowers

The Christmas cards and greetings are arriving

Across the shifty sands to the war

By the time I get to read them, she'll be rising

To a fifty, fifty chance and nothing moreThrough the sleet and drizzle

You can hear the sounds of soldiers

The Kalashnikov and splutter

On a sunny dayFrom the east of middle

To the north and south of nowhere

People earn their bread and butter

In some funny waysIn the corridors of power

Where the talks are in full swing

If you can't say it with flowers

Then don't say anythingI want to see my children

Grow up into healthy human beings

I want to see them walking, running

Playing, laughing and singingIn the corridors of power

Where the talks are in full swing

If you can't say it with flowers

Then don't say anythingI'm just outside the home of Christmas, now

And I'm dying, all across the shifty sand there's blood and guts

By the time I get to Jesus, she'll still be crying

I guess a fifty, fifty chance wasn't good enough

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