The boots were marching
The tanks were rolling
The people were clinging
We looked away
But we did peek
We saw the gaping, wide open pain
We smelled the coppery tinge of warm blood in the cool air
We heard the crying of the terrified women and damaged children
We felt the cuts of the shattered glass
We tasted the salty tears
The agony radiated over the ocean and to our back door
So
We posted our blue and yellow flags
And then feasted on fire-roasted meats and delicate sweets