I have sat and watched a man that would shake in his sleep
Wondering what he must be seeing as he begins to weep
As a boy he would tell me about things that would happen in the war
And I would just sit and listen thinking he was such a bore
The stories were about how they fought for this land
And when he returned people would spit on his hand
He would stop to watch the flag when it was raised up the pole
And tell how his buddies would sit and talk while in the dirty fox hole
The stories were sad and he would talk on what they had to do
For it wasn’t even safe when someone would ask to shine their shoe
The night would sometime be lighted by the bombing of the land
And when it stop they would sometimes have to fight hand to hand
On the first day of the new year he would go to visit a large wall
To stand and salute as they would call out the names of them all
As I sit at the table and hear him order another drink
To raise the glass and say this is for my friend as he gave me a wink
There is no fox hole for him to stay in tonight
But the memories will always be his biggest fright
But he was proud to be that soldier that fought for this land
Even though some of the people would spit on his hand
So as I go and lie down to get a good night sleep
I will say a prayer for the man that lives in the street