Weathered statues

Tin soldiers that march in our parks

Wrapped in yellowed newsprint

On their benches in the dark Their faces filled with sadness

Sorrow drawn from your nights

Survivin' on old glories

But now the, the glories have died Lonely men who are tortured

Once proud but not for long

Gnarled hands hold canes

Where the guns once were before Taunted by the children

Whose parent's lives he saved

Forgotten by a state

Whose leg in war he gave Silver gleams upon his chest

Though sweat gleams on his brow

Darker days and sable nights

Who work upon his soul His honor flew away from him

Like pigeons on the wind

Spendin' his last pennies

On cheap wine and sins Still they make the soldiers

And soldiers still grow old

Hundred minds with dignity

They let the young men die Another day, another statue

Falls out in the dawn

Weathered statues

Still march on and on