No More Heroes Made of Sorrow

There’s a line out in the desert

where the dust turns into names,

boys who left their hometowns

and never came back the same.

Mothers keep on prayin’,

fathers stare at silent phones —

and the news keeps rolling on

like a train of broken bones.

And every flag that’s flying

hides a story soaked in tears —

you can wave it if you want,

but it won’t drown out the fears.

No more heroes made of sorrow,

no more sons we send away.

If peace don’t come tomorrow,

let it rise with us today.

For the blood that fills the headlines

never made a soldier strong —

we’ve been fighting for so long now,

we forgot where we belong.

There’s a kid out on the corner

with his brother’s boots on tight,

says he’s signing up next summer,

“’Cause it feels like what is right.”

But he don’t know the quiet

of a house with one less chair,

or the weight a folded flag

puts on a mother’s empty stare.

Yeah, every marching order

cuts another heart in two —

you can call it sacrifice,

but it don’t sound brave or true.

No more heroes made of sorrow,

no more sons we send away.

If peace don’t come tomorrow,

let it rise with us today.

For the blood that fills the headlines

never made a soldier strong —

we’ve been fighting for so long now,

we forgot where we belong.

Maybe freedom ain’t a battle,

maybe courage ain’t a gun —

maybe strength is standing still

when the rest of us all run.

And if hope is just a whisper,

let it echo through the land —

’til the last stone of our hatred

falls from every broken hand.

No more heroes made of sorrow,

no more sons we send away.

If peace don’t come tomorrow,

we’ll be singing it today.

’Cause the blood that fills the headlines

never wrote a righteous song —

we’ve been fighting for so long now,

it’s time to finally move on.