Does he see your scars as battle wounds?
Does he understand the war being fought?
How your mind is fighting with itself
And both sides are losing.

Does he understand the days you get out of bed
Are battles won?
Does he know the nights you lie awake
Are battles lost?
How each day is a struggle to prepare your army?
And some days they just don't want to fight.

Does he tell you he'll fight the war with you?
Does he help heal the wounds?
When he holds you I hope it brings a white flag.
I hope his kisses are surrender.

Cut me open
Only to find salt water
Drank an ocean
Swallowed the seas
Stole from it’s depths
These washed away dreams

In days of doom
Bloodshed and hopelessness
In days we finally stand alone
Is when we make heroes of our own

My heroes don’t wear capes or camouflage
Don’t snipe from sand dunes or hide behind mirages
Don’t shoot hoops in Nike shoes
Or praise Jesus while supporting corporate issues

My heroes hold hands on picket lines and tear gassed streets
Wear blood red wounds from aggressive police
Sigh and cry for the innocent
Try and try against impossible odds
Sing songs of freedom
Not the military type but the kind that social movements keep bringing

And they are still bleeding
And they are still singing
And they are still marching
And they are still dreaming

My heroes keep
Carrying children from the wreckage
Running into burning buildings
Bandaging wounds
Holding the hands of strangers who are in danger,
Sheltering strangers, feeding strangers,
Caring for the poor,
Singing songs of love,
Putting down their guns and refusing to ****
While they pass out water bottles on the battlefield

These are my heroes
And they are still healing
And they are still singing
And they are still loving
And they are still dreaming

**** your heroes
Shoot em' down.
Shoot em' dead.
You'e only got one hero
That's You
Get it in your head.



© 2014 Kendra Bowman

What am I, a man you may say
but you don't know me.
Have you spoken with God? I have
and he says he's ashamed.
What have I become, what have I done.
What am I, a man you may say
but you don't know me.
Have you spoken with the Devil? I have
and he swears he's not to blame and I
understood cuz I feel the same.
You come at me with arms wide open
but I stand alone.
We're no heroes, and we're not made of stone.
Right or wrong I can hardly tell.
What am I, brave you may say
but you don't know me.
Have you heard from God? I have
and he sounds just like me.
"What have I done, and who have I become".
What am I, normal you may say
but you don't know me.
Have you seen the Devil? I have
and he looked a lot like me. (turns away)
I'm not defending our downward decending
that's falling further and further away,
Getting closer everyday.
You come at me with arms wide open
but I'm not their anymore.
Their is no heroes, and no one is made
out of stone.
Their is no more wright or wrong that
I can honestly say.
I'm on the wrong side of Heaven and
the righteous side, the righteous side
of Hell.
So what am I now that you
know me ?
I'm dead.