LEARN LYRICS

Mr. President

I'm writing you a letter

that you'll maybe read

if you've got time

I just got

my draft papers

to go off to war

before Wednesday night

Mr. President

I don't want to fight it

I'm not on earth

to kill poor people

It's not to upset you

I need to tell you

my mind's made up

I'm going to desert

Since I was born

I've seen my father die

I've seen my brothers leave

and my children cry

My mother suffered so much

that she's in her grave

and she laughs at bombs

and she laughs at worms

When I was a prisoner

they stole my wife

they stole my soul

and all my precious past

tomorrow bright and early

I'll shut my door

in the face of dead years

I'll hit the road

I'll beg for my living

on the roads of France

from Brittany to Provence

and I'll tell people

refuse to obey

refuse to fight it

don't go to war

refuse to leave

if blood must be given

go give your own

you're a good preacher

Mr. President

if you hunt me down

tell your cops

that I won't have weapons

and they can shoot