My job is to defend the musicians

The ones who play their songs through the night
With the ring of bullets and explosions as they continue to fight
My job is to be pulled, and I must comply
Because the nation says those we’re against must surely die

The hands that hold me, tremble with debate
For the child standing before them have much too dark of fate
But the child who has struggled is part of the enemy
And so I was pulled once more with shells for company

The hands continued their duty and as they tripped the wires
And shook even more for there was a flag in the briars
A flag that was white was now stained with red
But the hands brought the blue to the ones who were dead
But he never adjusted, and never got back
For his mind was still in the deserts of Iraq

The hands laid me down for his time here was done
And he went home where there was light from the sun
If this is justice, where is the just?
How is this a nation where In God We Trust?