Trace Adkins Follow

I was there in the winter of '64
When we camped in the ice at Nashville's doors
Three hundred miles our trail had lead
We barely had time to bury our dead

When the Yankees charged and the colors fell
Overton Hill was a living hell
When we called retreat, it was almost dark
I died with a grapeshot in my heart

Say a prayer for peace for every fallen son
Set my spirit free, let me lay down my gun
Sweet Mother Mary I'm so tired
But I can't come home till the last shot's fired

In June of 1944
I waited in the blood of Omaha's shores
Twenty one and scared to death
My heart poundin' in my chest

I almost made the first seawall
When my friends turned and saw me fall
I still smell the smoke, I can taste the mud
As I lay there dying from loss of blood

Say a prayer for peace for every fallen son
Set my spirit free, let me lay down my gun
Sweet Mother Mary I'm so tired
But I can't come home till the last shot's fired

I'm in the fields of Vietnam
The mountains of Afghanistan
And I'm still hopin', waitin', prayin'
I did not die in vain

Say a prayer for peace for every fallen son
Set our spirits free, let us lay down our guns
Sweet Mother Mary we're so tired
But we can't come home till the last shot's fired
Till the last shot's fired

Say a prayer for peace for our daughters and our sons
Set our spirits free, let us lay down our guns
Sweet Mother Mary we're so tired
But we can't come home
No we can't come home till the last shot's fired