Til The Last Shot's Fired

Til The Last Shot's Fired - Trace Adkins

I was there in the winter of sixty four

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

Overtone 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 til the last shot's fired

In June of nineteen and forty four

I waited in the blood of Omaha's shores

Twenty one and scared to death

My heart pounding 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 a 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 til the last shot's fired

I'm in the fields of Vietnam

The mountains of Afghanistan

And I'm still hoping waiting praying

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 til the last shot's fired

Til the last shot's fired

Say a prayer for peace for peace

For our daughters and our sons

Set our spirits free set us 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

Til the last shot's fired