to say what's right or wrong
But who are you to pull the trigger on
their enemy
Young man joined the front lines to
still his stormy soul
Now all that's left are the
memories of old
They all fall down
Some won't sur vive
Trying to escape
The memory of what they became
I tried hard to be proud of my service
But, all I could feel was Shame
The racism could no longer mask
The reality of the occupation
These were people
These were human beings
I feel guilt any time I see a
mother with her children
Like the one who cried hysterically
And screamed that we were
worse than Saddam
As we forced her from her home
I feel guilt any time I see a young girl
Like the one I grabbed
by the arm
And dragged into the street
We were told we were
fighting terrorists
The real terrorist was me
An d the real terrorism
was this occupation
Who am I to say what's right
or wrong
But who are you to pull the trigger on
their en emy
Young man joined the front lines
to still his stormy soul
Now all that's left are the
memories of war
They all fall down
Some won't survive
Trying to escape the
memories of what they became
They all fall down
Some won't survive
Trying to escape the memories
of what they became
While those weapons are created
and owned by this government
They are harmless without people
willing to use them
Those who send us to war
Do not have to pull a trigger or
lob a mortar round
They do not have to fight the war
They merely have to
sell the war
They need a public whose willing to send their soldiers
into harms way
They need soldiers willing to kill and
be killed without question
Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, Airmen
Have nothing to gain from this occupation
The vast majority of people living
in the U.S.
Have nothing to gain from this
occupation
In fact not only do we have
nothing to gain
But we suffer more because of it
We lose limbs
Endure trauma
And give our lives
Our families have to watch flag
draped coffins lowered into the earth