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Poppy Day Lyrics
We'll remember when that wreath
Is just a crown of thorns
To drape around your helmet
Hide out anywhere at all
We'll remember when you're no more
Than a poem on a grave
A sideline for the guy
Who writes the birthday cards but never signs his name
He's got your number, feels your pain
Though you're smiling from the mantlepiece
And you've got your rifle trained
It's pointing at the T.V.
Shall we tell you when to fire?
There's a program we all hate
It's not a late show
So you won't be tired
We remember how you loved the war films
And hid behind the sofa
Throwing balls of silver paper
We remember. We remember.
We've got our poppies on
We hear the clock chime out eleven.
We remember, we remember.
It's Poppy Day.
You shall not grow old!
Is just a crown of thorns
To drape around your helmet
Hide out anywhere at all
Than a poem on a grave
A sideline for the guy
Who writes the birthday cards but never signs his name
Though you're smiling from the mantlepiece
And you've got your rifle trained
It's pointing at the T.V.
There's a program we all hate
It's not a late show
So you won't be tired
And hid behind the sofa
Throwing balls of silver paper
We've got our poppies on
We hear the clock chime out eleven.
We remember, we remember.
You shall not grow old!
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This seems to tell of the insignificance that death has in the fascist society; people's loved ones are, as they are told, living on in pictures, even though they are truly dead.