(B. Andersson / B. Ulvaeus)

 

Do I hear what I think I’m hearing?
Do I see the signs I think I see
or is this just fantasy?
Is it true that the beast is waking
stirring in his restless sleep tonight
in the pale moonlight?
In the grip of this cold December
you and I have reason to remember

Soldiers write the songs
that soldiers sing the songs

that you and I don’t sing
They blow their horns
and march along
They drum their drums
and look so strong
You’d think that nothing
in the world was wrong
Soldiers write the songs
that soldiers sing the songs

that you and I won’t sing
Let’s not look the other way
taking a chance
’cause if the bugler starts to play
we too must dance

What’s that sound?
What’s that dreadful rumble?
Won’t somebody tell me what I hear
in the distance but drawing near?
Is it only a storm approaching
all that thunder and the blinding light
in the winter night?
In the grip of this cold December
you and I have reason to remember

Soldiers write the songs…