He raised his kids in a house like mine,
in a neighborhood like yours.
He believed what we believe
and obeyed our nation’s laws.

When this war came, he signed his name
and served three tours in Iraq.
When we sent him to Afghanistan
that was when our soldier cracked.

Cash was tight, and his mate took flight.
His emotions were rubbed raw.
Like many other, lesser, men,
he indulged in alcohol.

Then one night, in a drunken rage,
He held a private war.
In the village he went house to house,
killing all he saw.
He torched their homes with gasoline,
only then his rage grew still.
Only blood could satisfy
his sudden thirst to ****.

Our soldier lay his weapons down
and put his hands behind his head
He will be tried on American soil
for the attrocities he did.
When he pays for his crimes (Our Crimes)
the ultimate penalty,
will the horror and the pity fade?
Will our hands then bloodless be?

Somewhere our soldier lost his way;
He somehow betrayed the cause
He’ll never return to his house like mine
in a neighborhood like yours.