Walking Wounded
© 2008
Author: Lyrics Beth Williams/music & Vocal Steve Biederman
His gear’s a bag of empty cans
And grime his brand of cammo
He greets a stranger’s outstretched hand
With spit, his secret ammo

Still on patrol, he lurks along
The concrete jungle street
A casualty of plans gone wrong
And Welcome Home deceit

Chorus:
He’d served his country
He’d done his time
But while he was out there some deemed it a crime
No jury of peers
But sentenced to life
No family to miss him, then dumped by his wife

This turn of tide was his reward
Wrapped up in strings of sadness
But feelings he could ill-afford
So draped himself in madness

Chorus2:
He’d served his country
He’d done his time
But while he was out there some deemed it a crime
No jury of peers
But sentenced to life
No family to miss him, then dumped by his wife


Bridge:
Being all that he could be was patriotic bait
He took it and unknowingly sabotaged his fate

At least he had learned
Some tricks to survive
To find hidden treasures to keep him alive
Would like to forget
Some things from before
Like dreams of returning a hero from war.

Tag:
He came and went, a bet unplaced
Going, going, gone, erased