Don\'t interrupt me is what the mean S.O.B. shouted
when the din in the inn got to be too much and he just
couldn\'t think and talk out loud and listen to all the pitiful
patter falling out of everyones\' mouth and with his loud
enough tough touch he\'d soften them up once he\'d shut
them up and wounded their pride he\'d smile and say,
and now where was I, oh, that\'s right, the story of stolen
glory, the days long forgot, daily remembered in the hearts
that were torn apart, eighteen and nineteen were their ages
lead by a mean man of twenty going on ten million, made
of stone turned to flesh just to get into that mess men
were making of Europe and he woke from the bedrock
locked away in the men\'s mothers\' hearts.