How many died in that war, how many innocent victims, orders carried out, whom did you serve, the death toll in the many millions, lives stolen, where next, those lost souls, the soldier laments, the memory still reeling, did i really take a hand in that, the worries deepen, the signs from above, and the warnings, would I do it different if I had the choice today, how will i be judged, the soldier laments. The gold medal sits lonely on the wall, bravery in the face of.. he no longer recalls, and no one ever visits. he shrugs, the gratitude of the country will always be with you, he didn’t feel that way when he returned from Vietnam, but they bamboozle you with the glory of victory, and hide the truth, were we really that gullible, the soldier laments.
Crisis of conscience, who do you go to to ease that. The number of genocides and massacres, enough blood spilled to fill every blood bank for years to come, amen, the soldier still laments.
Solomon sighed; the signs were coming, what did they mean?