The Dying Soldier - Christy Moore

«Look at the dying soldier», I heard someone whisper, then i saw the blood come

through my shirt

Am i going to die here?

I don’t wanna die here!

Someone come and pick me from

the dirt

I don’t belong here, i don’t wanna die here, Oh no!

I don’t belong here, don’t let me die here, Oh no!

My hands are gettin' colder, My thoughts are growing weaker, this must be the

way it is

Stop the shootin', don’t ya see i’m dying?

Someone come and say a prayer

My eye’s are closin', i see someone comin', he turns his back and runs away

They stop shootin', it started rainin', This must be the way

I want to go back home where my friends are, i want to go on livin' days

I want to go back home where my friends are, i want to go on livin' days

I want to go back home where my friends are, i want to go on livin' days

(Instrumental)