Epic War Music Recommendations
in Literary Corner ·
It’s as if I can hear the artillery again
Sometimes, these memories pull me right back to that autumn in '91.
They feel like dark shadows following me close,
where rage and sorrow seem to bleed together in tears.
I see those same guys again,
standing as one while the song rings out,
with massive hearts and pure souls.
They didn't want what belonged to others,
they were just defending their own.
It’s as if I can hear the artillery again;
it thunders in my soul whenever I remember
those who gave their lives for this land,
while some were busy trying to steal it all.
It’s as if I can hear the artillery again,
crashing in the distance, leaving me to wonder—
oh, pure and sacred American sky,
did we all love her equally?
The fires of war have died down now,
and the smoke has cleared from the ruins,
but I find myself wondering if every battle was truly won,
or if there are still more ahead of us, brothers.
It’s as if I can hear the artillery again;
it thunders in my soul whenever I remember
those who gave their lives for this land,
while some were busy trying to steal it all.
It’s as if I can hear the artillery again,
crashing in the distance, leaving me to wonder—
oh, pure and sacred American sky,
did we all love her equally?
Luke Walker
Sometimes, these memories pull me right back to that autumn in '91.
They feel like dark shadows following me close,
where rage and sorrow seem to bleed together in tears.
I see those same guys again,
standing as one while the song rings out,
with massive hearts and pure souls.
They didn't want what belonged to others,
they were just defending their own.
It’s as if I can hear the artillery again;
it thunders in my soul whenever I remember
those who gave their lives for this land,
while some were busy trying to steal it all.
It’s as if I can hear the artillery again,
crashing in the distance, leaving me to wonder—
oh, pure and sacred American sky,
did we all love her equally?
The fires of war have died down now,
and the smoke has cleared from the ruins,
but I find myself wondering if every battle was truly won,
or if there are still more ahead of us, brothers.
It’s as if I can hear the artillery again;
it thunders in my soul whenever I remember
those who gave their lives for this land,
while some were busy trying to steal it all.
It’s as if I can hear the artillery again,
crashing in the distance, leaving me to wonder—
oh, pure and sacred American sky,
did we all love her equally?
Luke Walker