| It’s the eleventh of November down in Nashville, Tennessee
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| Free breakfast at the waffle house if I show 'em my ID
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| A parade up on the riverfront, you can hear the trumpets play
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| Hands on hearts, the color guard kicks it off Veteran’s Day
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| And they thank me for my service and wave their little flags
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| They genuflect on Sundays and yes, they’d send us back
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| But I believe in God and county and in angels up on high
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| And in heaven shining down on us through bullet holes in the sky
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| Waitress asks me how I’m doing but I don’t know what to say
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| I was thinking bout the battlefield the night I learned to pray
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| Marchers make their way down Main Street the crowd begins to cheer
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| I feel my chest explode as my eyes fill up tears
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| And they thank me for my service and wave their little flags
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| They genuflect on Sundays and yes, they’d send us back
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| But I believe in God and county and in angels up on high
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| And in heaven shining down on us through bullet holes in the sky
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| Oh Jesus said forgive them for they know not what they do
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| And he’s here with me this morning and his words still ring true
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| So I hand my head and pray for those we lost and those who remain
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| As the clouds burst over Nashville it beings to rain
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| And they thank me for my service and wave their little flags
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| They genuflect on Sundays and yes, they’d send us back
|
| But I believe in God and county and in angels up on high
|
| And in heaven shining down on us through bullet holes in the sky
|
| And in heaven shining down on us through bullet holes in the sky |