Lyrics

She was a waitress in a diner
He was her commanding officer
She clipped her own wings
Rough sheep bray in farmers' pastures
They've got my clothes put on
The shepherd boy starts to sing

We bought a ticket
The grass has blown away
I've got it made
I've got to get miles from home
Tin soldiers
Feet all caked in clay
Out comes the wind
Whistling through the halls of Rome

She worked a dime store down on castle
He was her father's master
She clipped her own wings
The second sons are out to pasture
Indigo-tinted, violent, lonely things

We bought a ticket
The grass has blown away
I've got it made
I've got to get miles from home
Tin soldiers
Feet all caked in clay
Out comes the wind
Whistling through the halls of Rome

Well they were both hard drinkers
They kept their cabinets closed
She clipped her own wings
A pick-up rusts out in the pasture
You turn the key, you start to
dream

But all these made-up martyrs
Mothers and marines
Keep themselves inside their clothes
In a new desert
A single songbird sings
Then gives up, gets and goes

We bought a ticket
The grass has blown away
I've got it made
I've got to get miles from home
Tin soldiers
Feet all caked in clay
Out comes the wind
Whistling through the halls of Rome