On deserted streets,
in foreign lands,
a long hollow gaze,
the blood on our hands.
On crowded streets,
you aren't the only one,
you protest my duty,
with your freedom I've won.
In the dark of the night,
a friend passes on,
one minute he's here,
and another he's gone.
Safe in your home,
with loved ones around,
you curse us with passion,
and spit on the ground.
Rifle, boots and helmet,
a memorial to a cause,
on bended knees they pray,
for another brother lost.
You protest at our funerals,
with sings proclaiming hate,
what will happen when it's over,
when help comes a bit too late?
We sweat and bleed,
and have no voice,
giving today's for your tomorrow,
that was our choice.
While you go out to dinners,
and laugh with all your friends,
will you ever think of us?
Until we come home again?
