Somewhere,
there's a lovely lady
waiting for me to come home.

She knows my head
was blown off in a battle,
but, she's seen me walk through that door before.

Our minds touch as she
walks by the river.
The waters of her eyes fill the air.

The smell of gardenia's
is replaced by blood and flesh.
No, she don't believe in God anymore.

The joy we've had, I couldn't ask for better.
Life is a field of floppy-haired puppies
and children with their hearts full of toys.

From here, I scream,
I try so hard to reach you.
Please don't let my son go to war.

It's hell.
I had a choice.
I could've shot my enemy.

I chose to die instead.
Be my witness.
Please don't let my son go to war.

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