Soldiers of Judas

There’s nothing so useless in society’s sight
As a soldier grown old, too weak for the fight
If he’s physically damaged he can’t be employed
If he’s mentally damaged we all get annoyed
He’s such a damned nuisance, just move him on
Can’t stand his behaviour, just get him gone
He embarrasses us with his drinking and such
We simply can’t deal with it, you’re asking too much

Asking too much? That’s what we asked of him
Now he’s nowhere to go and his future is grim
He sleeps in a doorway or an old factory floor
Haunted by dreams of the blood and the gore
He calls names of comrades long left behind
War damaged his soul and shattered his mind
Yet he fought for our freedom not for the pay
We shame give a coin and send him away

So he drinks and he curses, he swears a lot too
Symptoms of war wounds suffered for you
Then we rob him of freedom, lock him in jail
Because he’s a ‘pest’ and mentally frail
Just wash our hands like Pilot of old
Of he who gave freedom more precious than gold
We say don’t blame us if he’s damaged by war
After all isn't that what we pay our taxes for?

(Well?)