(G) Somewhere between earth and heaven
the C 17 (C) flies
(D) heading westward homewards
through (C) clean clear
safe blue (G) skies.
At the back of the airplane
lying a-(C)-lone
(D) wrapped in his country’s flag
they’re
(D7) bringing Buddy (G) home.
Somewhere between tears and heartbreak
a lifetime’s sorrow just be-(C)-gun
his parents[D] grieving
disbelieving
wait to (C) welcome home their (G) son.
And pray for the strength somehow
to face the days a-(C)-head
while
(D) heading westward homewards
a nation’s (D7) bringing home its (G) dead.
It’s when the[C] rifles fire their volley
at the (D) word of com-(G)-mand
when they (D) fold up the
Old Glory
and (C) place it in your (G) hand.
You can (a) cry then
and say good-(e)-bye then
for your (C) son’s
just a (D) name
on a (C) cold marble (D) stone
and he’s (G) never, never, never coming (C) home.
Somewhere between fear and hatred
the black heart of war (C) lies.
(D) Growing black or stronger
with every
(C) young man who (G) dies.
And meanwhile back from the airfield
at their post in the combat (C) zone
Buddy’s
(D) comrades sit and wonder
who’ll be the (D7) next one going (G) home.
So if the rifles fire their volley
at the (D) word of com-(C)-mand
when they (D) fold up the Old Glory
and (C)
place it in your (G) hand.
You could (a) cry then
and say good-(e)-bye then
for your (C) son’s just a (D) name
on
a (C) cold marble (D) stone
and he’s (G) never, never, never coming (C) home.
And he’s (G) never, never,
never coming (C) home.
