Heroes

There ain’t no heroes anymore.
The ghosts, martyrs to democracy
Dance with the spirits of widows.
The windows cast unseen shadows
In the dust on the floor,
But they ain’t heroes
To this nation’s kids anymore,
Who expect a little more
Than the inheritance
Of someone else’s war.

The echoes of far-off drums sound
In the land of burned sands and burned oil;
Dancing with the spirits of widows.
The windows cast unseen shadows
In the dust on the floor,
But they ain’t heroes
To this nation’s kids anymore,
Brought up by parents who expect more
Than to be the inheritance
Of another father’s son’s war.