Shots are fired

Shots are fired Aim to kill
Shoot him now Before he gets you

You voulanteered to give your life
You were one of the few, you survived

Here’s your story, if anyone is listening
You’ve made it through
But there were a lot that were missing

They miss you too, there staring down at you
Saying, why man? What did he do
What did he do...owww

As a boy He playered war games
Fighting men Men with no names

Battle excitement, the thrill of the kill
But plastic don’t have relatives
And blood don’t spill

It was all hero’s and valiant deeds
He didn’t feel the blood run
Down his sleeves

And there’s Churchill he’s doing his thing
He plays with his map boards
To see who will win... emmm

Eyes have seen The death of man
By his own In his own hands

But now he’s a killer, thats why he’s still alive
He learnt it wasn’t valiant deeds
But anything to survive

And it’s not murder, if your country says it’s alright
But it’s still murder, when he tries to sleep at night

And now he’s old and he tries to forget
So no one learns about the things he regrets

Now he’s old and tries to forget
No one learns about the things he regrets

No one learns about the things he regrets

Shots are fired was written on ANZAC day (Australia New Zealand Armed Co-operation) in 1993 when I saw an old war veteran sitting in front of his home crying thinking of his lost comrades. It talks of the waste and hardships of war.