But the ones that hurt the most
Are the weapons made of memories
And the deadly midnight ghost
Not all wounds are red and bloody
There are wounds that touch the mind
These are wounds that always fester
They're the never healing kind
Why are we who've done our duty
Plagued by wounds that never heal
Made by weapons of our memories
Which are worse than lead and steel.
There will always be sunshine after the rain.
Fear sets in for those who follow
As courage demands from those who've led
Unknown death is awaiting tomorrow
As raging rivers to the sea
There seems to be an endless source
From long lost memory
The young men come to volunteer
To shed their blood once more
They've heard the call to bleed again
Upon some distant shore
Why is the call to die so strong
That men will heed the call
Or do they think they're not the ones
Who'll take the final fall
Not we who volunteer
We think we'll never be the one
And laugh to hide our fear
But deep within our inner souls
We know we may be wrong
That death may be around the turn
Our life may not be long
But never mind we heard the call
It is the soldier, not the poet,Who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the soldier, not the campus organizer,Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
It is the soldier, not the lawyer,Who has given us a right to a fair trial.
And a grateful nation will be there
To give us all their thanks
They'll build for us a monument
Young boys will come to stare
And they will be the next to go
To shed their blood somewhere