For peace
My name is Emily Morrison and I am here to explain
In our quiet little town folks know my name
Its 1965 and the scene is set
The Vietnam War and the national debt
Loved ones set off to defend and fight
For our liberties, their land and our right
Friends and families shattered to the core
More children dying casualties of war
The back streets of Pennsylvania where I was born
To wonderful parents caring and warm
My father would go to work every day
I would stay with my mother I would hear her say:
This war is no good! We shouldn’t be there!
I didn’t understand! I didn’t care!
Until that cold and eerie November day
Dad packed me in the car and we drove away
We left mum behind. Just the two of us alone
No radio no conversation, just the roads constant drone
For what seemed like hours we drove to the Pentagon
We had to park miles away, the crowd was full on
People where marching all over the place
Holding picket signs, some with paint on their face
I was too young to understand what it was about
People screaming bring them back! get them out!
I clung to my father, arms around his neck tight
I looked up at him, his face had turned white
His name was Norman he was only 31
Brought up a Quaker, his parents only son
Teaching others of peace, respect and love
Cherish our bodies offer peace like the dove
Violence is frowned upon in all of its forms
Contempt for the government’s political storms
Wrapped up in the insanity that is brought out through wars.
He means no disrespect to the military corps
Me to his right! Duffle bag to his left!
Secretary of Defence would never forget
My father or november2nd 1965
Something was happening, I heard the crowd come alive
Father took from the duffle bag a red fuel can
Smiled at me and said this was his plan
Father is shaking, his heart beating so fast
He hands me to a stranger as he’s walking past
From then on his movements were very sure
He wanted a message to standout. to last and endure
Raising the can high in the air
He delivered a speech about how we should care
In an instant his is covered from head to toe
I reach for my daddy but the stranger says “NO”
Daddy turned to me with a tear in his eye
A bad feeling inside I started to cry
Hand in pocket he pulls out a lighter
His body ignites the area gets brighter
A pungent smell of burning cloth and skin
Screams ringing out war is a sin
People run over to try and help put him out
His commitment to peace was left in no doubt
Self immolation is how you chose to go
Setting yourself on fire. putting on a show
Was I too meant to burn on that cold November Day?
Was it part of your plan, for me to die that way?
No one has the answers, they can’t tell me why
Why he brought me along just to watch him die
*
*
*
In our quiet little town folks know my name
Its 1965 and the scene is set
The Vietnam War and the national debt
Loved ones set off to defend and fight
For our liberties, their land and our right
Friends and families shattered to the core
More children dying casualties of war
The back streets of Pennsylvania where I was born
To wonderful parents caring and warm
My father would go to work every day
I would stay with my mother I would hear her say:
This war is no good! We shouldn’t be there!
I didn’t understand! I didn’t care!
Until that cold and eerie November day
Dad packed me in the car and we drove away
We left mum behind. Just the two of us alone
No radio no conversation, just the roads constant drone
For what seemed like hours we drove to the Pentagon
We had to park miles away, the crowd was full on
People where marching all over the place
Holding picket signs, some with paint on their face
I was too young to understand what it was about
People screaming bring them back! get them out!
I clung to my father, arms around his neck tight
I looked up at him, his face had turned white
His name was Norman he was only 31
Brought up a Quaker, his parents only son
Teaching others of peace, respect and love
Cherish our bodies offer peace like the dove
Violence is frowned upon in all of its forms
Contempt for the government’s political storms
Wrapped up in the insanity that is brought out through wars.
He means no disrespect to the military corps
Me to his right! Duffle bag to his left!
Secretary of Defence would never forget
My father or november2nd 1965
Something was happening, I heard the crowd come alive
Father took from the duffle bag a red fuel can
Smiled at me and said this was his plan
Father is shaking, his heart beating so fast
He hands me to a stranger as he’s walking past
From then on his movements were very sure
He wanted a message to standout. to last and endure
Raising the can high in the air
He delivered a speech about how we should care
In an instant his is covered from head to toe
I reach for my daddy but the stranger says “NO”
Daddy turned to me with a tear in his eye
A bad feeling inside I started to cry
Hand in pocket he pulls out a lighter
His body ignites the area gets brighter
A pungent smell of burning cloth and skin
Screams ringing out war is a sin
People run over to try and help put him out
His commitment to peace was left in no doubt
Self immolation is how you chose to go
Setting yourself on fire. putting on a show
Was I too meant to burn on that cold November Day?
Was it part of your plan, for me to die that way?
No one has the answers, they can’t tell me why
Why he brought me along just to watch him die
*
*
*