The Tired Soldier

Tired of the killing,
Tired of the death.
And yet, he presses on,
Into the enemy. For
         
Death is his business,
Killing is his job. He's
Not paid by the hour,
But he pays blood for money,

Because he lives to kill, and kills to live.

But he's tired,
Tired of the killing,
Tired of the death.
So he chooses,

Chooses to end it all,
All the killing,
And all the death.
He stood there tall and still, waiting,

Waiting, for Death to see him.

And so the tired soldier dies,
With the pull of a trigger,
and the bang of the bullet.
The tired soldier sleeps,

Because he was tired of the killing,
And tired of the death.
We sing of his triumphs, and of his failures,
And yet we never mention how tired he was,




Because now he rests, now he sleeps.