Wayward Soldier
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Carry on my Wayward Soldier Light the fire that’s in your hands Scar the tissue that’s so fresh Wave the knife in disbelieving faces Lie down here, my Wayward Soldier Rest your eyes Calm your fears Whisper the words that haunt your dreams Kick the dust, my Wayward Soldier From your boots that lingers still Crop your hair and tie the strings Stand up tall and jut your chin Hush your screams, my Wayward Soldier Bandage knuckles that bleed so free Light that cigarette put to your lips Collapse in fatigue upon the floor Stray your eyes, my Wayward Soldier Dry the tears that stain your face Have no remorse for duty set Holster your gun Recite your mission, my Wayward Soldier Breathe in deep the air that stings Trade your hopes for darker thoughts Step away from your dead comrade Lift your arms, my Wayward Soldier Fall onto knees that quiver quickly Trace the sand, a map surrounding Shoot to kill and wonder not Come home to me, my Wayward Soldier To sleep beside the one so dear Forget the blood that seeps into night And use the fingers you used to fight God is not here, my Wayward Soldier Though life, it is, just down the stairs Pass on your strength to children borne To live and die, by Honor’s Code. “War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic-feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war, is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free…Unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself.” -John Stewart Mill-

Submitted on 2009-12-28 23:58:16     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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