A Murder of Memories
Eyedea & Abilities Lyrics

That's him in the corner of social oblivion
He is isolated and alone.

Encompassed by the sweet sense of freedom
He is enjoying a brief moment of peace.

That only borders the aura of deep cerebral gouges
This peace is fragile because of his psychological trauma.

Buried in each beat of the heart he was once proud to home
His trauma is deeply ingrained in his identity.

If only his substance held a higher level of potence
He wishes he had better coping mechanisms.

He might be able to drown the portion of his mind
He hopes to forget the worst parts of his experience.

Which is trapped in the infinite hoard
He feels trapped in his memories.

Of his 1972 through '74 tour through the flames of this hell
He is haunted by his experiences in the Vietnam War.

Sometimes gunfire is brighter than the sunshine
The violence he has experienced overshadows any beauty in the world.

And sometimes a child's scream influences every dream
The trauma impacts him even in his sleep.

Sometimes we fool ourselves into thinking we've moved on
He struggles with accepting the lasting impact of his experiences.

But no way, nohow, do we ever forget what we've seen
His memories remain with him always.

It's now twenty-five years later, he's on the brink of forty-three
He is middle-aged and still suffering from the war.

Still searching for sanity, surveying the floor of his distorted sea
He is still struggling to cope with his trauma.

He remembers high-school friends joking about the war
He recalls how few people understood the horror of the war.

Never knew what mom was crying for (Never knew what mom was crying for)
He has gained new perspective on the suffering of his loved ones.

The other piece that shines in his mind was a divine first love
He remembers a happy time before the war.

Sewn-made, beauty, brown-eyed queen he left behind
He left someone he loved to fight in the war.

He remembers holding her tight, watching the sunset at shore
He treasures memories of their time together.

He got the letter in the mail by the middle of his summer
He was drafted to fight in the war.

Wouldn't have had to go if it wasn't for his newborn brother
He was drafted due to family circumstances.

He was barely eighteen, murdering people even younger
He was forced to commit violence at a young age.

And he still ducks and covers every time he hears the thunder
He has developed lasting emotional reactions to certain stimuli.

He still hears the screams, smells the flesh, tastes the death
His memories are vivid and overwhelming.

Sees the blood, feels the pain, what's to gain, nothing's left
He struggles to find any meaning in his experiences.

But the slug that remains in his right calf
He still bears physical scars from the war.

The bullet laughs every time he cries, and it drives him mad
His pain is exacerbated by the physical reminder of the war.

Trying to sleep, but the visions give him a cold sweat
He struggles with insomnia and nightmares.

The war's been over for two decades, but he still hasn't been home yet
He is still trapped in his memories of the war.

And every day he waits and strains to suppress his guilt
He feels guilty for his actions in the war.

And forget the horror and the violence; the "kill or be killed"
He wishes he could forget the cruelty of the war.

Fists, they always clenched; teeth, they always grinding
He is constantly tense and stressed.

Real life is lost and in a bottle he tries to find it
He struggles with alcoholism as a way of coping.

"It's not fair," he mumbles through a nightmare
He feels that his suffering is unjust.

Only in a fight for two years and wound up spending his whole life there
His brief military service has had lifelong impacts.

He was face to face with the devil for the welfare of his country
He was forced to confront the evil of war against his will.

Now he's straining to live but his conscience won't let him
He is struggling to find peace with himself.

It ain't flashbacks, you have to understand the tragedy, see
His trauma is not just a psychological reaction, but a result of the war itself.

He left the war, but the war never left him, see
His trauma followed him back home.

It's now twenty-five years later, he's on the edge of a park bench
He is still struggling years later.

He asked God for hope and found his source non-existent
He is desperate for relief but finds none.

He sits in the shadows, because the sun burns no more
He suffers from depression and struggles to find joy in life.

Now he knows what mom was crying for (Now he knows what mom was crying for)
He understands his mother's pain more fully now.

I used to watch old man in the park
The artist has observed the man's suffering from afar.

The sights slowly drove fright through my heart
The artist is disturbed by what they have seen.

Wishing I could help but not knowing where to start
The artist wants to assist but feels powerless to do so.

I'd walk away, curse the world, gush some love and curse some more
The singer is torn between conflicting emotions in response to the man's suffering.

Now you know who I've been crying for (Now you know who I've been crying for)
The artist is revealing that they have been crying for the man.

He threw his medals in the river but they sunk alone
The man bears no pride or glory in his service.

Put shades on his eyes to hide it from the warzone in the sky
He is attempting to block out any reminders of his trauma.

He tried to slit his wrists about a month ago
He has suicidal ideation due to his suffering.

But he's seen so much death, he's scared to life of suicide
He is reluctant to end his own life despite his pain.

If there was only some way he could escape this penitentiary
He wishes he could escape his trauma.

Goals get bigger and figures it'll chase away his memory
He hopes that finding purpose will help him forget his trauma.

But the dreams only worsen, the scenes almost burst in
His efforts to suppress his trauma are unsuccessful.

He recalls how training took away his right to be a person
His time in the military was dehumanizing.

Put a gun in his hand, left him to die for the land
He was forced to kill and risk his own life for the sake of an abstract concept of patriotism.

The plan was the murder of man (The plan was the murder of man)
He was not fighting for good but for violence and destruction.

Politicians have a dispute to decide to send in troops
The decision to go to war is made by those distant from the consequences.

But the truth is they just don't understand (They just don't understand)
Those who make decisions about war are removed from its reality.

Now he's running out of time, and running out of energy
He is struggling with his age and the toll of his trauma.

But 'til the last day he will fight for the murder of his memories
He will try to find peace and healing even if it seems impossible.

And although he never got rid of his dog-tags
He is still connected to his identity as a war veteran.

He still wishes they'd have sent his parents an American flag
He still wants some recognition for his service, despite his complicated feelings about it.