The angel's tears fall down,
Upon the dusty streets of Baghdad.
Where the valiant soldier falls,
Giving up the life he had.
Why does the soldier come,
To a land that's not his own?
Why does the soldier give his life,
For a place that's not his home?
How does he stand so strong and brave,
As bullets drag him towards the grave?
Does he feel it is his place to save,
A nation so unworthy?
Is it for the flag,the stars and stripes?
Is it for his son, his darling wife?
Is it a simple matter of wrong and right?
Does he find himself honor bound?
So many questions, yet who am I?
To speculate on men who die.
While I in this chair in comfort rest.
The soldier sleeps in an armored vest.
I leave convenient truths to Politicians.
The waving signs is another's mission.
I simply offer you my deepest prayers,
And hope you know that someone cares.
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