A hero lies there,
He glances around,
His comrades lay silent,
Holds his .45 in hand.
Ready for anything
That comes his way,
Hand over one wound
of many wounds,
Drags himself to a wall,
Lays against it in pain.
Hardly can see anything,
Taste blood, dirt, and gun powder
Takes his helmet off,
And pulls a photo from it.
Tries to see,
Knows it\'s her,
Speaks to himself,
He speaks, I fight.
Fight for what I left behind,
Not for the hate,
I\'m going home.
Grabs his gun,
And marches forward
Leaving the fallen behind
To continue the fight.