| We show up every morning
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| Our uniforms are pressed
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| All spit and polish, we have to look our best
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| This message that we carry
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| Is a heavy load to bear
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| For those who pay the price with sacrifice
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| We have to show we care
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| Everybody has a duty, a way they can shine
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| The ones who go over there
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| And those who stay behind
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| Some ain’t coming back, reality is grim
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| It’s up to me and Sergeant Jack
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| To break the news to them
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| We’re the two soldiers no one wants to see
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| In a plain black sedan
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| Rolling slowly down the street
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| Past the toys and the bikes
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| Beneath the maple trees
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| Where fading yellow ribbons
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| Wave gently in the breeze
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| A loved one’s in a better place
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| They won’t be back no more
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| Now there’s two soldiers at the door
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| Sometimes they see us coming
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| And fall down on their knees
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| Tears are overflowing
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| Crying no, God, please.
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| Sometimes they just stand there, silent as a stone
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| With no surprise in their eyes
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| Like they knew it all along
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| See the soldiers on the tarmac, ready to deploy
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| Husbands and wives with little girls and boys
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| Say a silent prayer they all come back alive
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| And never see Jack and me pull up in their drive |