| Song | Warrior |
| Artist | Steve Earle |
| Album | The Revolution Starts…Now |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| This is the best time of the day—the dawn | |
| The final cleansing breath unsullied yet | |
| By acrid fume or death's cacophony | |
| The rank refuse of unchained ambition | |
| And pray, deny me not but know me now, | |
| Your faithful retainer stands resolute | |
| To serve his liege lord without recompense | |
| Perchance to fall and perish namelessly | |
| No flag-draped bier or muffled drum to set | |
| The cadence for a final dress parade | |
| But it was not always thus—remember? | |
| Once you worshipped me and named me a god | |
| In many tongues and made offering lest | |
| I exact too terrible a tribute | |
| Take heed for I am weary, ancient | |
| And decrepit now and my time grows short | |
| There are no honorable frays to join | |
| Only mean death dealt out in dibs and dabs | |
| Or horror unleashed from across oceans | |
| Assail me not with noble policy | |
| For I care not at all for platitude | |
| And surrender such tedious detail | |
| To greater minds than mine and nimbler tongues | |
| Singular in their purpose and resolve | |
| And presuming to speak for everyman | |
| Oh, for another time, a distant field | |
| And there a mortal warrior's lonely grave | |
| But duty charges me remain until | |
| The end the last battle of the last war | |
| Until that ‘morrow render unto me | |
| That which is mine my stipend well deserved | |
| The fairest flower of your progeny | |
| Your sons, your daughters your hopes and your dreams | |
| The cruel consequence of your conceit |
| This is the best time of the day the dawn | |
| The final cleansing breath unsullied yet | |
| By acrid fume or death' s cacophony | |
| The rank refuse of unchained ambition | |
| And pray, deny me not but know me now, | |
| Your faithful retainer stands resolute | |
| To serve his liege lord without recompense | |
| Perchance to fall and perish namelessly | |
| No flagdraped bier or muffled drum to set | |
| The cadence for a final dress parade | |
| But it was not always thus remember? | |
| Once you worshipped me and named me a god | |
| In many tongues and made offering lest | |
| I exact too terrible a tribute | |
| Take heed for I am weary, ancient | |
| And decrepit now and my time grows short | |
| There are no honorable frays to join | |
| Only mean death dealt out in dibs and dabs | |
| Or horror unleashed from across oceans | |
| Assail me not with noble policy | |
| For I care not at all for platitude | |
| And surrender such tedious detail | |
| To greater minds than mine and nimbler tongues | |
| Singular in their purpose and resolve | |
| And presuming to speak for everyman | |
| Oh, for another time, a distant field | |
| And there a mortal warrior' s lonely grave | |
| But duty charges me remain until | |
| The end the last battle of the last war | |
| Until that ' morrow render unto me | |
| That which is mine my stipend well deserved | |
| The fairest flower of your progeny | |
| Your sons, your daughters your hopes and your dreams | |
| The cruel consequence of your conceit |
| This is the best time of the day the dawn | |
| The final cleansing breath unsullied yet | |
| By acrid fume or death' s cacophony | |
| The rank refuse of unchained ambition | |
| And pray, deny me not but know me now, | |
| Your faithful retainer stands resolute | |
| To serve his liege lord without recompense | |
| Perchance to fall and perish namelessly | |
| No flagdraped bier or muffled drum to set | |
| The cadence for a final dress parade | |
| But it was not always thus remember? | |
| Once you worshipped me and named me a god | |
| In many tongues and made offering lest | |
| I exact too terrible a tribute | |
| Take heed for I am weary, ancient | |
| And decrepit now and my time grows short | |
| There are no honorable frays to join | |
| Only mean death dealt out in dibs and dabs | |
| Or horror unleashed from across oceans | |
| Assail me not with noble policy | |
| For I care not at all for platitude | |
| And surrender such tedious detail | |
| To greater minds than mine and nimbler tongues | |
| Singular in their purpose and resolve | |
| And presuming to speak for everyman | |
| Oh, for another time, a distant field | |
| And there a mortal warrior' s lonely grave | |
| But duty charges me remain until | |
| The end the last battle of the last war | |
| Until that ' morrow render unto me | |
| That which is mine my stipend well deserved | |
| The fairest flower of your progeny | |
| Your sons, your daughters your hopes and your dreams | |
| The cruel consequence of your conceit |