Somebody Else’s SonOctober 27, 2017
Somebody Else’s Son
On the concourse somebody else’s son
rocks his brand-new desert sand fatigues
with a backpack and a name tag Velcro-ed on
— this is how we ship them overseas.
A county fair face maybe seen before,
grinning at a high school football game,
stocking shelves in some small town grocery store,
but all these young soldiers look the same.
He knows exactly what he has signed up for,
His favorite civics teacher taught him true.
He’s joined a band of brothers off to war.
He’s off to do the things that he must do.
The airlines let ’em board priority,
we clap for their service as they pass.
You know it doesn’t really bother me
but then I’m usually flying business class
I hate how mankind tears itself apart,
how there’s always honest killing to be done.
I hate war from the bottom of my heart
and I’m grateful for somebody else’s son.