Jessica says, “It’s beautiful, but horrible to look at this”
She stands between walls of crosses searching for names of those she’ll miss
“I don’t know what is harder, all these crosses or watching the cars roll by
Nobody seems to care”.
Jessica says, “We did something over there, we did something, hey, it wasn’t much
People I knew died building a base camp, building a base camp just for us
People died so we could lay down gravel, because some battalion commander
Wanted gravel all around the camp
We’re not fighting for freedom. We’re not fighting for our homeland
We’re not fighting for anything that anyone seems to understand”
Jessica says, “This is one of them” as she pulls a cross down from the wall
“This guy was in my platoon. He lived right next to me. We served together before he took a fall.
On the day before Thanksgiving his wife left him and he blew himself away
Right there in front of everyone,”
Jessica went a little crazy over there. So they discharged her and sent her here
Her cries for help went unanswered, on a waiting list for more than a year
Jessica says, “It’s too easy. This war has become okay”
It’s just something else on the news today”
We’re not fighting for freedom. We’re not fighting for our homeland
We’re not fighting for anything that anyone seems to understand”
Jessica died at twenty-four, another casualty of this war
Driving drunk trying to numb her pain. Driving south in a northbound lane
“We’re not fighting for freedom. We’re not fighting for our homeland
We’re not fighting for anything that anyone seems to understand”
The last time I saw Jessica, she was crying among the crosses
Jessica said, “It’s beautiful, but horrible”