They don't ask for much
Only perfection
They push me to the brink of insanity
They trained me to be a soldier
To sling bullets and die catching them
Thats the only time I'd be enough
They want me to get a crew cut
And wear my combat boots
To train with my rifle
And hone my body and skills
But what if it's not what I want
They've never even asked
They blow off my opinion anyway
To them I'm just there legacy
Not a son, I'm an object
Not a person.
They think they own me
But I'll show them
I'll catch a bullet
Without joining the ranks
I'll catch a bullet in my room
Alone
With the radio on.
Then what of there legacy.
Then they'll cry
But not for me
No, never for me.
Only for the loss of there legacy
