Wheeling the old warriors off the Honor Flight plane with flags and banners, people calling their names.
From Chosen to Kabul, from Baghdad to Hue, after all these years today was their day.
Oh, the burden they carry, I heard one woman say. I wonder if our children would serve today?
But not far off another plane left, with soldiers and sailors, their solemn duty kept.
Nearby, a young wife, two children at her side. It’s the burden she carries as the plane took flight.
And across the sea in an ancient land, a lowered steel ramp, a song from a band.
A flag-draped coffin. A fallen hero inside. It’s the burden they carried, and they carried it with pride.
Emptiness and sorrow, pain and loss. It’s the burden they carry. The unbearable cost.
They swore an oath to support and defend. It’s the burden they carried to the very end.
Wheeling the old warriors off the Honor Flight plane with flags and banners, people calling their names.
From Fallujah to Khe Sanh, from V-E to V-J, after all these years today was their day.
A young child waved as the old men passed. Home to a hero’s welcome. Home at last.
It’s a burden they carry for a day like today. It’s a hallowed price that they gladly pay.
But to those who carry the greatest burden of all, for their loved ones who never came home—
May God be with you and let you know, you’ll never carry that burden alone.
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