“Dear
son, I know I ain't written
I'm sittin' here tonight, alone in the kitchen
It occurs to me
I might not have said it
So I'll say it now
Son, you make me proud”
I hold it up and show my buddies
Like we ain't scared
And our boots ain't muddy
But no one laughs
'Cause there's ain't nothin' funny
When a soldier cries
And I just wipe my eyes
Ifold it up and put it in my shirt
Pick up my gun and get back to work
And it keeps me drivin' on -
Waitin' on letters from
home
kara008 · 1 decade ago
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John Michael Montgomery // Letters From Home