NOT MY BOY!
They say it’s duty — but their kids don’t bleed.
They say it’s honor — but it’s power they feed.
They say it’s fate — and maybe they believe.
But we see the cracks — and their kids don’t bleed.
Names on a list…
pulled slow from the pile.
Kids step forward…
mile after mile.
Some get the letter,
some slip aside —
no one says why,
no one’s denied.
You take the weight,
you shoulder the call.
Others drift past it,
never touched at all.
No one claims fairness,
no one takes lead —
it’s just how the old gears
grind and proceed.
They say it’s duty — but their kids don’t bleed.
They say it’s honor — but it’s power they feed.
They say it’s fate — and maybe they believe.
But we see the cracks — and their kids don’t bleed.
Speeches roll out…
slow, practiced, clean.
Talk of sacrifice…
what it’s “always been.”
They hold the script,
they play their part —
but the weight lands heavy
on a different heart.
Some get a pass,
some get the call.
Some stay untouched
by the rise and fall.
No one says much,
no one concedes —
but we know how the current
shifts and recedes.
They say it’s duty — but their kids don’t bleed.
They say it’s honor — but it’s power they feed.
They say it’s fate — and maybe they believe.
But we see the cracks — and their kids don’t bleed.
Future snaps tight…
when your number appears.
One road ahead,
built out of fears.
Another road waits
for the ones who slide through —
guess that’s the way
the old hands choose.
Rules bend quiet,
names drift free.
Doors stay open
where they’re meant to be.
Nobody shouts it,
nobody needs —
we all know how the line
twists and proceeds.
They say it’s duty — but their kids don’t bleed.
They say it’s honor — but it’s power they feed.
They say it’s fate — and maybe they believe.
But we see the cracks — and their kids don’t bleed.
And in the silence…
in the slow stampede…
we carry the burden
their kids don’t bleed.
