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THIRTYFIVE YEARS by larry lile

Contributed by potlicker on Wednesday, 9th February 2005 @ 07:27:52 AM in AEST
Topic: Patriotic

Thirty five yars ago, I landed safely here, on freedoms shiny wings.
After thirteen months of service, in a jungle, trying freedom to bring.
To a nation torn and bitter, with a people, I learned to love so much.
In that land so far away, where so many, sacrificed their blood.

At home the day I landed, I was greeted with, vile, hate, and disgust.
By the people of my country, who hated what I did, it seemed so much!
I was a boy of eighteen years, when I went to fight there, in that war.
A man at nineteen returned, the boy would never be found anymore!

I sacrificed my childhood , in that land there, so far away.
I buried the boy inside me, when my freind was killed one day.
The enemy shot and killed him, when a young child, he was trying to spare.
From the horrors that did surround them, in that vicious fighting there.

The protesters chants and sermons, what purpose, did they really serve?
They screamed about the necessity, of ending the blood that was being shed.
Where the true price paid for freedom, was paid by those who had the nerve.
To stand there between the living, and those who wanted them dead.

It's thirtyfive years later, again our young troops are serving at war,
They are trying to secure freedom for a country, where it has never been known before.
Again the protesters are marching, and I think it's a sad and awful shame.
For they endanger the lives of our soldiers, with every chant they sing.

For those who stand and protest, and prove that they really, have no nerve.
They stand and protest with a freedom, that was bought by those, willing to serve.
Thank God for those who were willing, to stand and fight for freedom's cause.
Because those who stand and complain, would not cause our enemies any pause.

Now it's thirtyfive years later, and I would again, be proud to serve.
With the young of this great country, who again prove, that they have the nerve.
Who stand there serving freedom, in a country divided by hate.
A country whose one true chance of freedom, a few are trying to take.

No battle has ever been won, by those who love to protest and complain.
They have always been won by those, ready and willing to suffer the pain.
But to many this sense of honour, is a strange potion, that they cannot partake.
So they sit back and drink the freedom, bought by others, the kind they hate!

Copyright © potlicker ... [ 2005-02-09 07:27:52]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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