The Return of The Soldier

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: War and Military  |  House: Booksie Classic
The return of the soldier
Copyright River Dawson 2016

Sniping all day in the mountains
Till the explosion brought me down,
To find my mate in pieces
Lying on the ground.

I picked him up and prayed for him,
My rifle in the dust,
Knowing the feeling back home ain't good
They no longer care about us.

Airlifted out by chopper
Then hercules back home
Choking on aviation fumes
In your head you're all alone

Touching down at Brize Norton
I see the other plane
Ten airmen unloading coffins
Reawakens the pain.

Throwing kit onto the bus,
I silently take my seat
Knowing many others
Have someone at home to meet

Stepping onto the tarmac
In gently falling rain,
No one there for the sniper
No good woman to soothe the pain.

I sling my bergen on my back,
And back to my lonely room I go,
To try and rest my tortured mind
Get my spirits up from low.

Counting medals in velvet boxes,
I think of my mates wife
Meeting the other vehicle from Norton
She's lost half her life.

Then I meet a few friends in the bar
Line up drinks for the fallen
No one will ever touch those pints
Those dear friends are gone.

I just wished on once returning,
From a shithole over seas,
All shot up and scarred from war,
That there was someone there for me.

The love of a good woman,
Who came to meet the bus,
And I'd always make it home to her,
Nothing could separate us.

Submitted: August 02, 2016

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Submitted: August 02, 2016

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The return of the soldier
Copyright River Dawson 2016
 
Sniping all day in the mountains
Till the explosion brought me down,
To find my mate in pieces
Lying on the ground.
 
I picked him up and prayed for him,
My rifle in the dust,
Knowing the feeling back home ain't good
They no longer care about us.
 
Airlifted out by chopper
Then hercules back home
Choking on aviation fumes
In your head you're all alone
 
Touching down at Brize Norton
I see the other plane
Ten airmen unloading coffins
Reawakens the pain.
 
Throwing kit onto the bus,
I silently take my seat
Knowing many others
Have someone at home to meet
 
Stepping onto the tarmac
In gently falling rain,
No one there for the sniper
No good woman to soothe the pain.
 
I sling my bergen on my back,
And back to my lonely room I go,
To try and rest my tortured mind
Get my spirits up from low.
 
Counting medals in velvet boxes,
I think of my mates wife
Meeting the other vehicle from Norton
She's lost half her life.
 
Then I meet a few friends in the bar
Line up drinks for the fallen
No one will ever touch those pints
Those dear friends are gone.
 
I just wished on once returning,
From a shithole over seas,
All shot up and scarred from war,
That there was someone there for me.
 
The love of a good woman,
Who came to meet the bus,
And I'd always make it home to her,
Nothing could separate us.


© Copyright 2017 river dawson. All rights reserved.

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