Soldier Son

I want to be your Soldier Son
and fight with you each day
and learn your ways of wisdom
and show others the way.

I want to be your Stable Hand
and toil in the muck.
A good and honest living
to make my own good luck.

I want to be your Field Ox
I'll pull and strain and stress
my muscles taught from labor
earn goodness through duress.

I'll bleed and fight and spend myself,
all to save something,
a guilt that I've been harboring,
a price to cure my shame.

So call me now your Soldier Son
and let me die in arms,
and bleed a truthful, righteous death,
a healing for my scars.