His last war..

Sabres flash, whole armies clash..
With the fury of a storm!
Blood does spurt as they bite the dust.
Another war is on...

But he’s on a song, 
‘cause he’s going home..
He’s going home,
At the break of dawn, oh yes..

Now the fury does dissolve,
as he takes his mind back in time..
flying past a blur of images,
he reaches where he belongs.

The cool winds ruffle his hair
Over once again...
Sitting under the cover of stars,
He feels at one with them.


The sound of gunfire jerks him back
To the ugly, murky present.
He looks up and turns around..
To stare into his death!

Now he’s going home,
Not the way he wanted..
His eyes are ever closed..
He won’t see the stars or feel the wind, they’re closing all the doors..

Now tell me brothers, do wars make sense..
When they tear apart these lives?
Ask the grieving widow, the orphaned child..
Who’s yet tender and naive.

Remember that old soldier..
He was on his way home.
The ghostly pallor on his lips..
It does tell it all..

He was on a song,
‘cause he was going home..
He was going home,
At the break of dawn, oh yes..