Son you're naive
To still be out lookin'
For something to believe
The realities of power
Are above your ideals
And he sure has good reasons
For the way that he feels
For man has never hesitated
To do violent deeds
To ravage this earth
And take more than he needs
Can there be any doubt
To the size of his crimes
After all that we've seen
Within our own times
Oh but what kind of logic
In what kind of brain
What manner of man
Would think it was sane
What kind of soul
And what heart that beats
Would chose to kill millions
For an honorable peace
There are those who will argue
It's all too complex
You must live past the present
To see it's effects
As if the peasant in the fields
Hearing planes in the sky
Waits for history to tell him
It's his turn to die
Now I'm sorry that you have to hear
These words tonight
They're not pleasant to sing
They're not pleasant to write
I know the tide of protest
Has passed us somehow
Oh but when do you speak out
If you don't speak out now
Tell me
What kind of logic
In what kind of brain
What manner of man
Would think it was sane
What kind of soul
And what heart that beats
Would chose to kill millions
For an honorable peace
Tell me
What kind of logic
In what kind of brain
What manner of man
Would think it was sane
What kind of soul
In what heart that beats
Would chose to kill millions
For an honorable peace
Tell me
What kind of logic
In what kind of brain
What manner of man
Would think it was sane
What kind of soul
In what heart that beats
Would chose to kill millions
For an honorable peace
Now your Father has told you Son you're naive To still be out lookin' For something to believe The realities of power Are above your ideals And he sure has good reasons For the way that he feels For man has never hesitated To do violent deeds To ravage this earth And take more than he needs Can there be any doubt To the size of his crimes After all that we've seen Within our own times Oh but what kind of logic In what kind of brain What manner of man Would think it was sane What kind of soul And what heart that beats Would chose to kill millions For an honorable peace There are those who will argue It's all too complex You must live past the present To see it's effects As if the peasant in the fields Hearing planes in the sky Waits for history to tell him It's his turn to die Now I'm sorry that you have to hear These words tonight They're not pleasant to sing They're not pleasant to write I know the tide of protest Has passed us somehow Oh but when do you speak out If you don't speak out now Tell me What kind of logic In what kind of brain What manner of man Would think it was sane What kind of soul And what heart that beats Would chose to kill millions For an honorable peace Tell me What kind of logic In what kind of brain What manner of man Would think it was sane What kind of soul In what heart that beats Would chose to kill millions For an honorable peace Tell me What kind of logic In what kind of brain What manner of man Would think it was sane What kind of soul In what heart that beats Would chose to kill millions For an honorable peace Explain Request ×
Lyrics taken from
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