There are no questions, there are no lies. As you stand next to me, looking into my eyes. You see them pale blue, filled with pain, and with dread. Not wishing to know what goes on in my head. My uniform faded, my heart filled with salt. What I did over there, it is not my fault. Yet I still see you people, holding your signs. Protesting me, and my brothers alike. Why do you hurt us so open and free? When the President Bush will not sign his decree. To end the war, and bring us home. Before we get blown up by the road side bombs. We have fought and have died so that you can hold up your sign. But think of me and what it does to me inside. I still love you, and your freedom to say. All those things that disgust me, and make me pray. That when I get home, you will not look my way.