Where bullets, jets, and bombs do fly
Where the grey, red and orange, colour the sky
The soldiers fight for us, they kill and they die.
For them let’s cry, for them let’s cry.

In a 3 story household, a mother and son,
I Pray everyday that my dad will come home,
We both have each other, but still feel alone.
The wonder has grown, the wonder has grown.

Paranoia takes over, our feelings are torn,
It’s like a shot to the heart, every knock on the door,
Praying it isn’t a soldier from war,
Can’t take it no more. I can’t take this no more.

So I pack up a bag, and sneak out at night.
Arrive at the airport, and I jump on a flight.
Now in the battlefield, where dad bravely fights.
What a horrible sight. What a heartbreaking sight.

With no gear an no armour, I walk without fear.
Ignoring the gunfire, that rings through my ears.
I’m covered in dirt, and my clothes start to tear.
But I feel like he’s near. I know that he’s near.

I’m shot to the ground, so I crawl through the sand.
I take one glance up, and there stood my dad.
I go in my pocket, and haul out a badge.
It said Number One Dad, I love you dad.

He drops to his knees, as he breaks out in tears.
He throws down his gun, and he takes off his gear.
Losing his son was his biggest fear.
But now he was here, his son was right here.

He picks me up gently, and walks away slow.
Bombs still exploding, the sky it still glows.
He nods at his soldiers, as they watch him go.
I brought my dad home, he’s finally home.

This poem was written/submitted by Steve Piercey.