A brave young man went off to war
Looking for liberty.
He'll find a wreath upon the door
When he comes back from across the sea.
His beloved dad passed away;
He doesn't know it yet.
All young men grow old the day
They face a father's death.
The circle's never broken,
And the cycle never ends.
One more son is going home
To see his father -once again.
The decades keep on rolling by,
The gray hairs come and go.
Father and son both always try
To share the love they know.
Then dad suffers a sudden stroke,
And son drives through the night.
This has to be some kind of joke
They'll laugh at in the daylight.
The circle's never broken,
And the cycle never ends.
One more son is going home
To see his father once again.
I'm going home to see my father,
Driving through the night,
Desperately searching for the magic words
To make this turn out all right.
I make it there in time;
There's no wreath upon the door.
And though my dad can't see me,
I pray he'll hear my words.
He's lying there on his deathbed;
The light is growing dim.
In minutes my father'll be dead,
And so I say to him:
The circle's never broken,
And the cycle never ends.
One more son is going home
To see his father once again.
The circle's never broken,
And the cycle never ends.
One more son is going home
To see his father once again.
Looking for liberty.
He'll find a wreath upon the door
When he comes back from across the sea.
His beloved dad passed away;
He doesn't know it yet.
All young men grow old the day
They face a father's death.
The circle's never broken,
And the cycle never ends.
One more son is going home
To see his father -once again.
The decades keep on rolling by,
The gray hairs come and go.
Father and son both always try
To share the love they know.
Then dad suffers a sudden stroke,
And son drives through the night.
This has to be some kind of joke
They'll laugh at in the daylight.
The circle's never broken,
And the cycle never ends.
One more son is going home
To see his father once again.
I'm going home to see my father,
Driving through the night,
Desperately searching for the magic words
To make this turn out all right.
I make it there in time;
There's no wreath upon the door.
And though my dad can't see me,
I pray he'll hear my words.
He's lying there on his deathbed;
The light is growing dim.
In minutes my father'll be dead,
And so I say to him:
The circle's never broken,
And the cycle never ends.
One more son is going home
To see his father once again.
The circle's never broken,
And the cycle never ends.
One more son is going home
To see his father once again.
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