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The house was like a tomb. |
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I was hiding in my room. |
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As my brother made his way on down the hall. |
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I didn't want to say goodbye. |
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And I was trying to deny there was a war, |
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And that he got the call. |
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I watched him from my window |
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Walking down the drive. |
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Then I ran down the stairway |
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Through the front door and |
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I cried You come back you hear? |
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And I let him see my tears |
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I said I'll give you my rookie of |
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DiMaggio. |
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I'll do anything you want, |
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Clean your room, or wash your car. |
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I'll do anything so long as you don't go. |
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But he said, this is what brothers are for. |
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Well I have my heroes, |
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But the one |
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I love the most |
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Taught me how to hunt and swing a bat. |
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And I wrote him every night, |
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I said I miss our pillow fights, |
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But lately |
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I just wonder where you're at. |
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Sometimes freedom makes it hard to live. |
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When it takes things from you that you don't want to give. |
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I said you come back you hear? |
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I miss you being near. |
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Laugh and fish down in the maple grove |
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I'll do anything you want. |
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There must be someone |
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I can call, |
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And just maybe they would let you come back home. |
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But he wrote, this is what brothers are for. |
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I may never have to face the anger of those guns, |
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Or lie cold and wounded in my blood, |
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Or know the sacrifice and what it must of cost |
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For him to love me that much. |
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Well, it had been two years, |
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And I held back my tears |
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When I saw him in that wheel chair on the shore. |
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And as I ran and held him tight, |
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That's when he looked me in the eye |
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And said I'm sorry that you have to push me home. |
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And I said hey, this is what brothers are for. |
