Finally, Father, I am free going home to my land from across the sea. The years have passed so slowly by since the day I came here to die. Is there no one alive who recalls that I was missing in action, and had to cry? Fifty-four years ago, I met my fate ~ Nineteen years old and full of hate. Hate for the ones who brought me here far from the ones I hold dear. I have forsaken hope, no cause to cheer in my unmarked grave year after year.
Seventy five thousand buddies are MIA's whether on land or beneath the waves, no one knows where you sleep ~ over your grave no loved ones weep. Only waves wash over the ships sunk deep and memories are all we have to keep. Long years ago this nation's youth joined the cause to preserve the truth. We heard the cries of our fellow man, when our leaders called we said, "we can." With our arms, into battle we ran we gave our lives for our beloved land.
We saw our cause and beheld our duty gave our lives for honor, not for booty. America is called the land of the brave on Memorial Day the flag we died to save flies at half mast over honored graves ~ over unmarked graves, nothing waves. But I am going home at last just a memory from the long ago past. After all these years, I was finally found I'm going home from this cursed ground. And on Memorial Day when Taps sound another MIA will be homeward bound.
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