Dear soldier

Who am I to say what's right or wrong?
But who are you to pull the trigger on their enemies?
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 survive
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
Racism could no longer mask the reality of the occupation
These were people, these were human beings
I feel guilt anytime I see a mother with her children, like the one who cried hysterically
And screamed that we're worse than Saddam, as we forced her from her home
I feel guilt anytime 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, and 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 enemies?
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 memory of what they became

They all fall down
Some won't survive
Trying to escape
The memories of what they became

While all 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 the 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 who's willing to send their soldiers into harm's way
They need soldiers who are 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