Masters of War

Bob Dylan, 1963

  Come, you masters of war - 
  You that build the big guns,
  You that build the death planes,
  You that build all the bombs,
  You that hide behind walls,
  You that hide behind desks - 
  I just want you to know
  I can see through your masks -

  You that never done nothin'
  But build to destroy,
  You play with my world
  Like it's your little toy - 
  You put a gun in my hand
  And you hide from my eyes,
  Then you turn and run farther
  When the fast bullets fly.

  Like a-Judas of old
  You lie and deceive - 
  A world war can be won
  You want me to believe - 
  But I see through your eyes
  And I see through your brain
  Like I see through the water
  That runs down my drain.

  You fasten all the triggers
  For the others to fire - 
  Then you sit back and watch
  While the death count gets higher - 
  You hide in your mansion
  While the young people's blood
  Flows out of their bodies
  And is buried in the mud.

  You've thrown the worst fear
  That can ever be hurled - 
  Fear to bring children
  Into the world - 
  For threatening my baby,
  Unborn and unnamed,
  You ain't worth the blood
  That runs in your veins.

  How much do I know
  To talk out of turn?
  You must say that I'm young,
  You might say I'm unlearned,
  But there's a-one thing I know
  Though I'm younger than you - 
  That even Jesus would never
  Forgive what you do.

  Let me ask you one question:
  Is your money that good?
  A-will it buy you forgiveness?
  Do you think that it could?
  I think you will find,
  When your death takes its toll,
  All the money you made
  Will never buy back your soul.

  And I hope that you die
  And your death will come soon - 
  I'll follow your casket
  On the pale afternoon,
  And I'll watch while you're lowered
  Down to your deathbed,
  And I'll stand over your grave
  'Til I'm sure that you're dead.