When the guns are finally silent
And we all go marching home,
And those held in bondage are finally set free,
Will they know and long remember
That the price was great indeed?
And to their children’s children will they share,
Of battles in dark places where the fields would explode
From beneath our feet and high up in the air?
Will their sleep have dreams so gentle
While we battle night and day, to stop the sounds and
Sights that rage within our minds?
Let them ever then remember, and recall with gentle care
That the freedom that they hold is precious and so very rare.
Its been bought with blood and bone, our hearts and thoughts are altered,
Give them wisdom then to know and be aware
Though the battle may be over, and this victory is won
That still we soldier on
For freedom is not free.