when I was a young sappy boy / looking for a way to make a mark / somebody at school heard me sing / called me a poof and wheeled away / stood my ground, followed on, through the quadrant and the halls / caught him up, pushed him down, kicked him squarely in the balls / well, I felt great for a day / a little bit less so in a week / by the time my greatest fight was famed / I was sick and sore ashamed / felt the sting in my fists and the sting of salty tears / the hero for a day who milked his hollow cheers / fight fire with flowers / greet your killer with a kiss / when they call you down just say / there’s no better day than this / wage the love of the world against the darkest powers / victory is easy when you’re fighting fire with flowers / so I spent my youth seeking out / the pacifist old guard / the commies and the pinks / at the cafe boulevard / painted dad’s old guitar with the mark of CND / yet the world’s many wars kept on raging to spite me / now they’re carving up the land / and signing on the line / and they’ll do it all again / like they did in ‘39 / ‘58, ‘92 and all points in between / driving nails in their hands for any two-bit queen / fight fire with flowers / greet your killer with a kiss / when they call you down just say / there’s no better day than this / wage the love of the world against the darkest powers / victory is easy when you’re fighting fire with flowers
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