We send our people off to die,
With Uncle Sam’s purpose greed,
While all our honorable soldiers,
Are the ones that for us bleed,
They give their lives for the belief,
Its freedom for which they fight,
And as we owe a debt of thanks,
Our governments reasons are clad in night.
And as we live our lives at home,
Often times we forget,
As they fight to keep us free,
Death is wrapped in our regret,
Though the tale for some is grim,
Are war and peace the same,
As here our freedoms are taken away,
And love is made a game.
Just as those at war stand tall,
At home we still have death,
It might not be by another’s hand,
Yet its closer with every breath,
Love and hate, sex and pain,
Are mentioned in a favorite song,
And on the day she walked away,
For a moment love seemed wrong.
Though I’ve made my share of mistakes,
And I’m sure there’s more in store,
Love was taken by the reapers touch,
But another gave me more,
Though death unfortunately touches us all,
Life springs from that event,
And though I’m lost without who I found,
Thoughts of one a hearts death prevent.
As we mourn those we’ve lost,
There are also things we’ve gained,
Our freedom afar is kept alive,
Inside deaths piercing pain,
Remember those who have fallen,
But also remember that which still stands,
For even things we believe to be lost,
With love, we still hold in our hand.
Only you Marcy!!!!