This Losing Game

A balanced flashlight just illuminates the
 page, a tired soldier's hand begins to write
 A tattered notebook full of fringes in the spine,
 remnants of letters written other lonely nights
 "How are things there, well, I know it's hard alone...
 How is Katie – Does she still like Goodnight, Moon?
 I hate to miss her birthday party in July
 but there's no sign of peace anytime soon"
 After all these years, after countless wars,
 we still raise our guns and we fight some more
 And we still don't know how to count the score in this game of war
 He reads it over slowly one last time, places some X's and O's
 And wonders if he'll ever see this page
 again, He licks the envelope, presses it closed
 Now everyday he simply tries to make his way,
 and tries to think of what to feel and what to say
 And tries to reconcile the things he sees
 today with thoughts of a loving God to whom he prays
 After all these years, after countless wars,
 we still load our guns and we kill some more
 And we still don't know how to count the score in this game of war
 Miles and miles away she reads a
 bedtime story by the soft glow of lamp light
 "Goodnight pillow, goodnight teddy,
 goodnight stars, Goodnight, Moon, Goodnight."
 After countless tears shed for precious blood,
 can't we stand and say that enough's enough?
 Yes, they need our love,
 and they need our cheer, but what of us now, we need our heroes here
 And it's we who are lost,
 and it's we who must cry for freedom's cost, for all who die
 And we still don't know why we play this losing game