The shatter of the bottles would scare me something awful as a kid. My fear how it would harden. And find a home in places that I hid. I'd tear 'em down.
Freedon rings louder now. Listen up hear the sound. Screaming as the shots ring out. That's what freedom sounds like now. Beating drums, father's sons.
Up above you'll only see the sky. That ocean of grey in the air. Nothing to bother you there. No one to raise any hell. No more farewells. Under the deadly bells.
The road does funny things inside a man. To hurt in ways I just don't understand. My heart can see the road that leads back home. I'm afraid that I can't get there any more..
The letter said it all, "We're shipping out". I know they got it wrong without a doubt. The war ain't over there it's here with me. The battle of the bloody century.
Who's gonna care for the ones who care for the ones who went to war. Land mines in the living room eggshells on the floor. I lost myself in the shadow of your honor and your pain.
They say no man's left behind but that ain't true. They hate it that they need us but they do. They lose their fingers lose and their limbs. We try to love 'em back together again.
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Rifles and rosary beads. You hold on to what you need. Vicodin morphine dreams. Rifles and rosary beads. . Yellow smoke orange haze. Glowing into my eyes.
When the darkness draw near. And I'm shackled, chained to my fear. And the nightmares howl and moan. She wakes me up and reminds me I'm home. . It's her love.
Rotors spin as she's running for the bell. She was a fearless pilot with a heart of gold. I never really knew her all that well. She had one more flight and she was headed home.
I was army mechanic, I worked with the men. I worked on my back, I tried to fit in. Torque wrenches and ratchets, multi-meters and scales. Grease on my face, grease on my hands, grease under my nails.
Six o'clock is always behind you. Six o'clock on the battlefield. Six o'clock is black as gun smoke. At six o'clock our deal is sealed. . No need to talk or testify.
It's the eleventh of November down in Nashville, Tennessee. Free breakfast at the waffle house if I show 'em my ID. A parade up on the riverfront, you can hear the trumpets play.
War ripped my baby from my breast. Now my name and rank cover my chest. Twenty three hours I flew and wept twenty three hours I never slept. I wiped my face changed my soaking bra.
Written by Fred Eaglesmith. . Well, I stared out of the windshield into the rain so light. . And I turned on my dims, and somebody flashed me their brights.
It took a mighty blow to crack me to the core. To finally come to know I could ask for more. I've wondered all my life, why I felt so alone. Trying to survive, how could I have known?.
She didn't get mad. She didn't even cry. She lit a cigarette. Then she said goodbye. I must have missed a sign. I missed a turn somewhere. When I looked in her eyes.
The parade of souls is marching across the sky. Their heat and their light bathed in blue as they. march by. The All Stars play "When the Saints Go Marching In".