There comes a time and a place,
when we must forget about standing tall,
and look at all these names straight in the face,
then break down in tears as on our knees we fall.

Look at the wall, read the names, remember them good,
there are so many names, of those people who died,
they held their positions, on enemy ground they stood,
yet they still got killed, in this bloody war, but they tried.

They fought for our country, they fought so hard,
they protected our values, with freedom on their mind.
Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness they tried to guard,
while fighting off the evils of communism from far away and blind.

There was Kieran J. Starr and Raymond C. Clark,
they got up by daylight, and died before dark.
Tommy L. Shehorn, John P. Brown, and David B. Conn,
never even made it home, they are forever gone.
Allen E. Firth, George E. Cahill, and David G. Kerney,
died for us, me and you, during their journey.
Mark S. Behient, Kenneth R. Stubblefield, and Robert W. May,
fought for their lives, and struggled to see their next day.
While Phillip L. Lee, Joseph F. Cook, and Jimmy E. Page,
survived a very long time, they still got killed by the enemy's rage.
and then there was David E. Gore and Charles D. Flood,
who tried so hard, so very hard, yet still ended up in a pile of blood.

These are just some of the names, that cover the wall;
thousands and thousands of names, written side by side, back to back,
they start on the ground, and reach ten foot tall, yet never seem to end at all,
while the faint glimmer of the white is swallowed up by the emptiness and grief of the black.

They fought an enemy, one they couldn't see,
they were trained to fight, and forced to kill,
but they thought only one thing, what it's like to be free;
What can we do but cry, when we think of how they feel.

The ground is stained red, from all the blood that was spilled,
and our memories are scared from the tragedy's revealed;
Our stomachs are twisted, and our body's are chilled,
by all the family, friends, and fellow people who were killed.

I'd like to thank all the men, and women, for all that they've done;
For they are the glue that can hold our great country together,
even if it means to die defending us, instead of turning to run.
Let me promise you this, I'll never forget, I'll remember forever...

Why must we act this way,
why must we treat them so;
Why should they suffer and pay,
When they're too young to know?

They've grown up, in a world, one of hate and sin,
their parents always fight, the violence, it has no end,
their mother sits their, while their father, hits her once again,
what type of message, are we really, trying to send?

Why must we act this way,
why must we treat them so;
Why should they suffer and pay,
When they're too young to know?

Their parents stay, in their home, and do drugs all night,
they try to understand, what's going on, with all their might,
but they're confused, those little kids, they tremble with fright,
no wonder those kids, can't ever tell, wrong from right!

Why must we act this way,
why must we treat them so;
Why should they suffer and pay,
When they're too young to know?

Their mother is sold, in their house, while they're still there,
their fathers the one, who pimps her off, to high to care,
how could this be, when we all know, that it isn't fair,
it's so amazing, what our kids, are forced to bear!

Why must we act this way,
why must we treat them so;
Why should they suffer and pay,
When they're too young to know?

Can we help them,
Lord, can we save them?

As the train hugged the tracks, the smoke rose,
drifting up, melting into the smooth night air,
while the whispering of the stars quieted and froze,
and the passing dear stopped and turned to stare.

The cold sharp wind tore at me, ripping through my clothes,
so I held myself a little tighter, while I sat there,
looking out the back of the train, at the sky who knows,
at the moon, who reads my face and knows I care.

I think of the times when we rode this together,
watching the trees pass by, reflecting off each puddle,
holding ourselves so tight, thinking of each other,
stopping only to kiss, and occasionally cuddle.

I imagine the way we watched the smoke, sift into the sky,
and how it wrapped, around the stars, holding them so tight,
I pictured us up there, with the stars, learning how to fly,
and how they danced, shining so bright, crying out, with all their might.

As the train hugged the tracks, the smoke rose,
drifting up, melting into the smooth night air,
while the whistling of the train scattered the screeching crows,
and woke me up, only to see that you weren't there.

Daniel Carriger (eldnac@geocities.com)

Index