With his rifle pointed at the foe, young man, but a child inside, he will march to defend his countrymen on a foreign soil hillside,
When the cannons cease and the last gun fires, his survey has begun,
And he sees his friends, all lifeless, on the hillside that he's won.
When I look around and see the bodies huddled everywhere, there are very few to care for them,
It's cold in the midnight air,
And the lines of hope and sustenance, a barrel's fire burns,
And the morning light will seal the din, as the hopelessness returns,
And I seem to have forgotten what it is to be alone.
Take the time to feel the way they do, (to be alone)
To be alone,
Take the time to feel their pain. (to be alone)
She has grown to a blossom from her youth; blue eyes and windblown hair,
But the storm that's raging deep within, the darkness and despair,
Many young nights fearing the open door,
Large shadows loom above to seal a family's legacy with her father's twisted love.
Well, the sky is turning ebony, and it suffocates the air,
As a man is hanging on a cross, his followers are not there,
And he yells, "Why has Thou forsaken me, left me all alone to bear this loneliness and agony, this nakedness and fear?"
And I seem to have forgotten what it is to be alone.
Take the time to feel the way they do, (to be alone)
To be alone,
Take the time to feel their pain. (to be alone)
As I sit here in my comfort and I watch the evening news of the fighting man and the homeless one, the victim of abuse,
With my loved ones gathered around me, warm fire burns inside this home,
And I seem to have forgotten what it is to be alone.
