Radio War Lyrics

Did the wine make her dream Of the far distant spring
Or a bed full of hens Or the ghost of a friend
All the while that she wept She had a gun by her bed
And a letter he wrote From a dry, foundered boat
And the train track will take All the wounded ones home
And I’ll be alone Fare thee well Sara Jones
Now we lie on the floor While the radio war
Finds its way through the air Of the dead market square
And the beast never seen Licks it’s red talons clean
Sara curses the cold
"No more snow, no more snow, no more snow"