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THE SOLDIER WHO
WALKS ALONE
...For the weary and
the fallen.
Well, there marches a digger
standing proud
Marching down the streets with medals pinned;
With friends, as he shall remember friends lost
As he marches through the cheers of the crowd.
As
the mind weary vault of memories casts back...
To that day, where fallen mates lie in rows; still
While others before him are bloody massacred,
As the day is painted black.
As
a young lad, he sought to honour his land
Unaware of the future that lay ahead.
A young lad walked into the registration booth,
Upon his return, a man, a soldier amongst the crowd.
Every
parental eye of the nation, watching their sons
Boarding into hulls of transport planes,
Where the darkness would become a trusted friend,
As families wonder... if they'll ever see their son's smiles again.
The
action they sought has fired into their arms,
So young, so innocent, to the world around.
They will see the colour spectrum in times of fear,
Bloodshed will be seen within their tears, quietly shed in P.O.W. camps.
They
now count the weeks as well as the mates lost
To this bloody massacre, we call
WAR
All they see, fallen bodies around the war torn land,
Where is the peace... or simply the piece of mind lost?
As families witness their son's return, toe tagged in body bags,
Blackened windows pay their last respect,
While others exuberant with joy,
As their son's return, their only tags hanging from their necks.
Now,
the years spent fighting, against the Unknown Soldier
Has managed to sour the mind and weaken the soul,
Though the lad who became a man, will never share his secrets,
As he swore to mates, an oath of a soldier.
Well,
there marches a digger tall and proud,
Marching down the streets with medals and thoughts;
Memories of mates fallen, never far apart,
As he marches through the cheers of the crowd.
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