The baby has the eyes of the woman on the bed

The nurse cradles him close and wipes the blood off his head

If there wasn’t a war, and the plane hadn’t gone down

It’d be daddy in the room holding his little boy instead

The baby grows up a man, faster than most could believe

While his mother plays daddy; she doesn’t succeed

There’s emptiness there and it’s hard to ignore

The boy grows up with big things in store

The boy turns eighteen and signs the forms

His mom says no all he does is scorn

His daddy left a job and it’s his to complete

He boards with pictures in hand and boots on his feet

The pictures show dozens of green, camouflaged men

They stare back at him as he imagines again

What his father endured with the bullets and bombs

What it was like to be there, battling ‘til the end

The boy’s daddy kneels and stares back at him

With his green on tight; a helmet tied to his chin

Bombs exploded and missiles launched

But all these dangers meant nothing to him

Like father, like son, the boy will stand and fight

With a belief that what his father did was right

As the commander yells it’s time to jump

He puts the picture away and falls in to the night