Fuck The Guardian
Take me again
where engines cry
Take me again
from my haunt on the airfield
Take my B17
back into the sky
dulce et decorum est
Owens verse rings through the land
pro patri mori
we reply
though we do not understand
I did not fight Iraq for thee
Tony Blair and Hilary
I fought it for my family
and to be rid of you and he
At the tomb of the unknown
my wreath of lillies lies unseen
for 200,000 Malians
held in bondage quite obscene
And still he waits
with his aircrew
for the flight
that will not come
he does not know he was shot down
in a war that was never won
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