(And that would be the piece that would tell us that we had entered into the last day.)

Jumpin' Jehovahs, the battlefield is clear!
Strange soldier that claimed he was a man at war

He was of no army; he was fighting all alone;
And for no reason he was a man at war

He was standing in his foxhole; he was always on the defensive;
When out of the smoke appeared an attractive figure

A head popped out of that torso, and much to his surprise
He fell in love with its eyes

She was fifteen, Vogue magazine
What an odd place for her to be
Standing on that battlefield by the man at war

"Does she love me?", he screamed with bombs bursting in the air
"Does she love me? Will she understand me?
I'm a man at war!"

He was ambushed and shot up his legs and arms and head
Had to be amputated, he was rehabilitated;
He was a man at war
And suddenly, and surprisingly

Their roles had been reversed:
He was blessed and he was cursed;
He was a man at war