(x5) Farewell my wistful Saigon bride I'm Going out to stem the tide A tide that never saw the seas It flows through jungles, round the trees Some say it's yellow, some say red It will not matter when you're dead How many dead men will it take To build a dike that will not break ? How many children must we kill Before we make the waves stand still ? Through miracles come high today We have the wherewithal to pay It takes them off the streets you know To places they would never go alone It gives them useful trades The lucky boys are even paid    Men die to build their Pharaoh's tombs And still and still the teeming wombs How many men to conquer Mars How many dead to reach the stars ? Farewell my wistful Saigon bride I'm Going out to stem the tide Some say it's yellow, some say red It will not matter when you're dead