The man has served in Afghanistan and twice in Iraq
His neighbours are of people he’s wanting to bring back
His body and his brain will carry wounds until he dies
The memories of ghosts of heroes he cannot let go by.
So he’s standing in the station waiting for his train
There’s people going in all directions bumping with no blame
They hurry for their train or hurry to wherever
He stands there thinking everything and doesn’t think life fair.
Is this a war on love…
He’s seen the hatred, the bits of bodies
I think he’s seen all evil that can be seen.
And so this war on love…
A PTSD thing is just a thing just don’t think of bodies
This man has seen the extent of our being.
The war on love is feelings
The war on love has no meanings
We have more than enough…
It is a war on love.
He’s on his train and talking goes he’s listening thinks of blood
There seems a smile when he thinks of women being hurt
We need to find a start a place to get from here to them
I’ve seen the hurt and sick of seeing it again, again and again.