Want to buy a license to use this song in your video projects and advertisements, attribution-free, for $20?
The long-empty spot in this old parking lot With a six-pack of Mexican beer And you're finally here, you're finally here We sprawl on the hood, and drink more than we should And watch clouds in the distance collide How they join and divide In just half a day I'll be flying away With the 21st Regiment B., over the sea They'll give me a gun and here you go, son Let's make sure that the good guys all win There's no room for greed with a country in need And I know you don't want me to leave, but you've gotta believe They take what they need No, I don't know the reason we go, but then, what do I know? I'm just a farmboy from East Benton Ridge Yeah, from East Benton Ridge There's plenty of guys who are smarter than I Who have told us that we need to fight So it's gotta be right When I get to the spot where the men are just shells And the whole world is cracked like the Liberty Bell I'll send you a postcard from hell The burden was mine, so I signed on the line And they gave me a number and rank And I promise my dear, I will write you this year When my mind's in a dark shade of blank Yeah, I will send you a postcard from hell Now you're falling asleep on the hood of my Jeep And you're burrowed to hide your sad frown While the sun's going down, on this desolate town Take a good look at this picture you took And remember my face while I'm gone It won't be too long I'll be back next May if this war goes away And I hope I can stay for awhile When I get to the spot where the men are just shells And when the whole world is cracked like the Liberty Bell And the faces stare back with a plan of attack And the voices have stopped and the boys have all fell I'll send you a postcard from hell
Tuning: Standard, key of C