No, I never wanted much,   Never more than you could give with your touch.   It's such a sympathetic bruise, but not a permanent scar.      You've got these blood-thirsty angels rushing around your room.   I wonder what we could do; I wonder what we should do   When the terrible trumpets play that sad marching tune.   I wonder, when did we lose; I wonder, what did we lose?      No, I never felt brand new,   And I never expect to in this life.   These days I cower too much beneath the blanket above.      You've got these blood-thirsty angels rushing around your room.   I wonder what we could do; I wonder what we should do   When the terrible trumpets play that sad marching tune.   I wonder, when did we lose; I wonder, what did we lose?      That's what we do   When we lose.