I sat at a bar having a beer trying to hold down the stool.
The men who could not fight, in a war that didn't seem right. You let them come home, America.
Heaven is laying in my sweet baby's arms, hell is when my baby's not here.
Honesty is something you can't wear out.
Maybe it's time we got back to the basics of love.
We did an album one time called White Mansions, about the civil war, but it was written by a guy from England. His looking at it from over there and it not being a part of his history made it so he could be objective.