The dark hallways and rooms cast forth the same shadows as my heart.
My music, flowing through the hallways, the deep bass cords bouncing off the walls.
The silence is chilling, the movement isn't there.
My tears aren't flowing, my voice is not here.
The wounds on the soldiers are clear in my eyes.
They all know, the wounds heal with time.
I am a soldier, I stand here with pride.
I am a soldier, Of the modern times.
My cadets, they have fallen, my comrades still fight.
I stand here at home, the fire of war in my eyes.
I see them fighting for the things they want safe,
I see them all shaking heads in disgrace.
I stand here still, in the silence at home
Freedom still ringing it's sad little notes.
Freedom, they say, is not free.
The soldiers who pay the price for us all it seems
Know that the freedom will come when the war they are fighting away, stops at home.
The corrupt politics, the deep rolling, rumbling of thunder, the murders, the schemes,
The frightened little children, the gangs, and the thieves.
When they come home, what do they find, but the world that they left is not really kind.
The price that they've paid is not over yet, they fought for our safety, and still now yet.
They lose jobs, their families are hurting, they all wonder how
That the war they didn't want was somehow found?
The deep bass notes flow right down the hall, the silence enveloping all.
The cold stairwells carrying the thoughts of the world, right to them all.
My music, flowing through the hallways, the deep bass cords bouncing off the walls.
The silence is chilling, the movement isn't there.
My tears aren't flowing, my voice is not here.
The wounds on the soldiers are clear in my eyes.
They all know, the wounds heal with time.
I am a soldier, I stand here with pride.
I am a soldier, Of the modern times.
My cadets, they have fallen, my comrades still fight.
I stand here at home, the fire of war in my eyes.
I see them fighting for the things they want safe,
I see them all shaking heads in disgrace.
I stand here still, in the silence at home
Freedom still ringing it's sad little notes.
Freedom, they say, is not free.
The soldiers who pay the price for us all it seems
Know that the freedom will come when the war they are fighting away, stops at home.
The corrupt politics, the deep rolling, rumbling of thunder, the murders, the schemes,
The frightened little children, the gangs, and the thieves.
When they come home, what do they find, but the world that they left is not really kind.
The price that they've paid is not over yet, they fought for our safety, and still now yet.
They lose jobs, their families are hurting, they all wonder how
That the war they didn't want was somehow found?
The deep bass notes flow right down the hall, the silence enveloping all.
The cold stairwells carrying the thoughts of the world, right to them all.