why all these bugles cry these squads of young men drill to kill and to be killed stood waiting by the train why the orders loud and hoarse why the engine 's groaning cough as it strains to drag us all into the holocaust why crowds who sing and cry and shout and fling us flowers and trade their rights for ours to murder and to die chorus the dove has torn her wing so no more songs of love we are not here to sing we 're here to kill the dove why must this moment come when childhood has to die when hope shrinks to a sigh and speech into a drum why are they pale and still young boys trained over night conscripts payed to kill and dressed in gray to fight these rainclouds massing tight this train load battle bound this moving burial ground goes thundering to the night chorus the dove has torn her wing so no more songs of love we are not here to sing we 're here to kill the dove jacques brel , la colombe ( the dove ) jared pauses the tape .