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 we'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?

 Though 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 Pharoah'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
 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 we're dead