Welcome Home Soldier
                                  By Chuck Sullivan ..............Copyright©1993

I was born in the south and raised there in the heart of Mississippi,
When I graduated from high school, I'd never seen a hippy.
My folks were God fearing and patriotic too,
They believed in God and their country, just like me and you.

College wouldn't take me because of the grades I made,
It didn't matter no how, fixing cars was to be my trade.
I enrolled in trade school and was doing alright,
Till I opened up that letter when I got home one night.

I openend up that letter and that's where it all began,
Greetings the letter said you're in the army man.
I told them in the Army that fighting was not my bag,
But it took more than fixing cars to preserve our country's flag.

They sent me to a special school and I learned a different trade,
I left there a Green Beret amoung the best they ever made.
To Viet-Nam I was sent to kill and killing was what I did,
When I broke down on my first kill, I was never more a kid.

Killing came more easily in fact it wern't so bad,
It was guys like me, who kept our country free, for folks like Mom and Dad.
We had been on night patrol and returning to our base,
A buddy paused to light a cigerette and a sniper removed his face.

And then I felt the pain myself and in a puddle of blood,
That night I knew I'd surely die face down in that worthless mud.
How I lived I'll never know but I didn't die that night,
As I came around I heard a sound, "Easy son, you'll be all right".

Well they got me well, let me rest a spell, and gave me a purple heart,
They took my gun, "you're going home son, you've already done your part".
Now I didn't come home, with the idea in mind, that the world owed me a living,
I fought for my country, like any man should, and I did it with no misgivings.

The country changed while I was away, even my little home town,
There were no jobs, my nerves were shot and things started getting me down.
I bought me a pack, a sleeping bag, some shirts and two pair of jeans,
And set out to see the country side, maybe salvage a few of my dreams.

I slept out under the stars at night, washed my shirts and my jeans in the streams,
I waded through fields of flowers and was happy for a while it seemed.
But livin' like I was livin', just enjoying being free,
Disturbed the people I fought for and they started hasslin' me.

Why were people angry with me, why didn't they understand?
That despite my long hair, my simple attire, I'm still very much a man.
I was kicked out of town after town and the law, they bugged me a lot,
I was busted time after time, on suspision of peddling pot.

I've done my best to do my part to keep my country free,
But I have no freedoms of my own, people, keep hasslin' me
I entered a little town one day and stopped at a hamburger stand,
Up drives the law, "get in" he says, "I've ordered a hamburger man".

"Well get your slop", he says, "Then get in the back of the car,
I spilled my drink when he shoved me in, I asked him, what's this for?"
"I'm taking you to the edge of town", "Hippies aint welcome here,"
"Show up again, and a vagrancy rap", "Will put you away for a year."

Was this what I'd been fightin' for? Is this what you call being free?
The time was at hand to take a stand, aint no more hassln' me.
Quickly, I got out of his car, and walked slowly up the street,
From my back, came his attack, and he knocked me off my feet.

He stood over me triumphantly, with his gun at my head,
I was back in Nam, I disarmed him, and with his gun I shot him dead,
For eighteen days and eighteen nights, I hid out in the hills,
Before they apprehended me, I had two dozen kills.

But now I'm in a prison cell where I am forced to wait,
With too much time to think about, what is sure to be my fate.
Uncle Sam, you son of a bitch, it just ain't fair,
Because of you and Viet-Nam, I'll die in the 'lectric chair.

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