The protesters asked me,
when I put my bags on the plane.
"Why do you fight? All soldiers are the same!
There is no reason to go to war,
we think it is unfair.
There is no reason to go and die,
No reason for us to pretend to care."
Their words strike me to the bone,
as I turn and look them in the eyes.
"I would love to be at home,
but I fight so you can believe in your lies."
They stared at me shocked,
their flags dropping low,
as I told them a story,
One that very few people know.
I fight so they can say those things,
Their words that hurt me so.
Because if I don't play my part,
who else will have to go?
I don't do it for the glory,
because there is none to be found,
I don't do it for the money,
I do it for my friend on the ground.
A bullet has punctured his shoulder,
he holds out his trembling hand.
He asks me to write home,
and slips me his wedding band.
We fight so you don't have too,
as you all go about your way.
We fight so you can go to work
and sit in an office all day.
We fight for all the mothers,
who's children lie in the Earth.
We fight for all the children,
who's fathers missed their birth.
War is never pretty, and it is seldom ever kind.
But I'll grab my gun and fight,
to protect any friend of mine.
So before you say that you don't care,
that all soldiers are the same,
think about what you do,
before you place the blame.
You think that we shouldn't be here,
that nothing will ever change,
look into a soldier's eyes,
as they point their weapon down range.
We do it to protect you,
because there are things that you don't know.
There is more than things that bump in the night
and that is the reason why I have to go.
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