|
11th hour's gone nothing's resolved |
|
there's no alternative to becoming involved |
|
strike up the band round up the men |
|
ready to die for nothing |
|
one shred of hope one prayer for peace |
|
one man abandoned he prays for release |
|
he's bound to his code |
|
dishonor is death |
|
his heart pounding hatred |
|
with every breath he fights |
|
war's a childrens game |
|
back in the world |
|
he'd be a criminal |
|
he'd be insane |
|
no sleep for days |
|
he sweats when it's cold |
|
he lives for his orders |
|
he does what he's told |
|
no mercy for his enemy |
|
his finger on the trigger of an m-16 |
|
the hours grow long |
|
he's bored and alone |
|
he doesn't need no one he's never going home |
|
the system made him who he is those motherf**kers will fear him |
|
he's gone his mind is a waste |
|
he hears it |
|
twenty-one guns |
|
life imitates death imitates |
|
twenty-one guns |
|
honor parades accolades a section eight |
|
twenty-one guns |
|
a proud servant |
|
of this grand republic |
|
he got twenty-one guns |