In a dense jungle across the sea;
We’ve got men fighting, crying, & dying.
In the air the smell of rotting bodies linger;
It’s the heat & humidity that makes ’em cook.
Blood spilled on the ground;
POW/MIA’s can’t be found.
The government say their looking;
Yet, is it true: What are we going to do?
We’ve been telling them to get our men;
The ladies cry & we don’t know when ‑
they will, if they will, ever come home.
They fought a war that wasn’t ours;
All we could do was pray & look at the stars.
When will our boys come home?
We’re all alone, we want our boys to come home.
They’d go and come;
Always on the run.
Agent Orange all around;
Being dropped from planes to the ground.
They could be sitting in tiger cages;
The treatment they get is outrageous.
They may be beaten or worse;
we love them.
They fought a war that wasn’t ours;
All we could do was pray & look at the stars.
When will our boys come home?
We want them & we’re all alone.
wil becker
1992
