Yesterday when he was younger,
didn't worry 'bout war or hunger.
Had food on the table,
Peace in the neighborhood--
life was good.
Then a war fought far away
called Johnny to come play.
Just a boy in brown boots
when he marched off to save--
he was brave.
He finally made it back
with his body intact,
but red-crusted mem'ries
keep telling this soldier--
it ain't over.
demons, demons, damn those demons,
as he shoots another shot of whiskey.
Smoothly, it goes down,
a little peace of mind found,
as he slowly drowns his demons.
He received a Purple Heart
for his physical scars,
but now he just gets high,
'cause a medal can't suffice,
his sacrifice.
He tries so hard to hide it,
no way he can deny it.
Nighttime is when he fights
to keep his sanity,
he can't sleep.
'cause the movie starts showing--
bombs are blowing--
bullets flying--
bodies dying--
all around--
in stereo sound.
And while the smoke smolders,
he prays that it's over.
The silence is deafening--
until he starts to scream--
demons, demons, damn those demons,
as he shoots another shot of whiskey.
It's a war he ain't winning
'cause his bottle's half empty,
and there's still a lot of demons
left to fight--
it's a hell of a life.
damn, damn, those demons...
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Author Notes
This is about my older brother, a Vietnam Vet, who still struggles with his demons but who will always be my hero. He represents so many others who suffer from PTSD.
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