Teksty: Joe Pug. Bury Me Far.

I was falling dead in battle,
must've been Tuesday, I don't know the date.
I did everything everyone asked for,
but I say we'll all be late.
The many dead of my conrades,
all look the same in this place.
Won't you bury me far from my uniform,
so God might remember my face.

Do not bother with Congress, the rich, or with the rest.
I fought their battles in this world,
I'll not fight for them in the next.
Do no find me justice,
just find me a grave.
And then bury me far from my uniform,
so God might remember my face.

My mother, my mother you'll cry for me.
You'll weep, with the next of our kin.
You must promise never to think of
what is not what could have been.
I'll not return to your table,
so don't save me a place.
Just bury me far from my uniform,
so God might remember my face.

From the iron cross medal I would have worn,
From the statues that sisters and widows mourn,
From the newspaper clipings and microform,
From Geneva to Hague and Nuremburg,
From the sex of this world that I'll no longer taste.
Won't you bury me far from my uniform
so God might remember my face?
I know God will remember my face.
Merciful God, please remember my face.