Let Them In, Peter,

They Are Very Tired

Give Them Couches Where The Angels Sleep

And Light Those Fires



Let Them Wake Whole Again

To Brand New Dawns

Fired With The Sun

Not Wartime's Bloody Guns



May Their Peace Be Deep

Remember Where The Broken Bodies Lie

God Knows How Young They Were

To Have To Die

God Knows How Young They Were To Have To Die



Give Them Things They Like

Let Them Make Some Noise

Give Roadhouse Bands, Not Golden Harps

To These Our Boys



And Let Them Love, Peter

'Cause They've Had No Time

They Should Have Trees And Bird Songs

And Hills To Climb



The Taste Of Summer In A Ripened Pear

And Girls Sweet As Meadow Winds

With Flowing Hair



Tell Them How They Are Missed

And Say Not To Fear

It's Gonna Be Alright

With Us Down Here



Let Them In, Peter...