Description
A Letter Home (2:46)
I see the faces of the dead . . . between the firing of my gun;
Who died for what . . . if we stay?
And died for nothing . . . if we run.
And now, I lay me down to pray. For here, men weep because other men weep.
And I pray the Lord, my soul will not stay . . . here where lives are lost like sheep.
Here where lives are lost like sheep.
Dreaming of watching you . . . holding you . . . wishing that . . . your mind might find . . .
You thinking me into you . . . hoping that . . . the thread on Time’s reel could rewind.
As if some wheel willed me into this war . . . I face what is to be as if cursed;
Thinking of Death in the third person . . . knowing I’ll meet It in the first. . . .
Knowing I’ll meet Death in the first.
Dreaming of watching you . . . holding you . . . wishing that . . . your mind might find;
You thinking me into you . . . hoping that . . . the thread on Time’s reel could rewind.
Somewhere at the end of the world . . . whenever you speak our names . . .
Simply say we struck a chord the whole world heard . . .
And that its sound was not in vain . . . And that it’s sound was not in vain.





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