the soldier

Here, at the door You leave your last shred of hope on the floor And there, once more You take off your helmet and you drop your sword So you feel lighter and a little more yourself You were never the kind to fight back anyway You enter the battleground With a shivering hand and the will to prove you're right It's a slaughter and it's no surprise You stood still and drew a target on your back And you feel better as you lie there in the dirt There is a kind of sweetness that comes with the hurt