Bitter branches, spreading out
There is none more bitter than the wood
Into the white world it grows
Twisting under soldier's feet
Standing in lines in the damp earth underneath
Holding up their rifles high
Holding their young wives, who wave goodbye
Hold up the clear glass to look and see
Soldiers standing and the roots twist underneath
Their young wives with white hands, wave goodbye
Their arms as bitter branches, speading into the world
Wave goodbye
They wave goodbye