A lonely soldier
Wakes up at dawn
His mind is weary
His conscience is torn
He feeds his ego with love
That he keeps in a photograph
Of his family, back at home
Afraid but ready
To answer the call
The endless waiting
For the curtain to fall
And in the distance he hears
The cry of the enemy
That he can't see, but fears
A target waits
At the end of a gun
A face of terror
With nowhere to run
He's someone's father or son
Clutching a photograph
Of his family, back at home
So where would we be
If the tables were turned
We've so much to offer
Yet so much to learn
Should freedom be something we earn
Framed in a photograph?
