| I could see the car arrive | |
| the uniforms, they stepped outside | |
| Doorbell rings and breaks the quiet | |
| Hats in hand they come inside | |
| The bitter truth, the disbelief | |
| The shock at first, the waves of grief | |
| How'm I gonna carry on | |
| When everything is gone | |
| Oh native son | |
| Oh where have you gone | |
| Rob from always on the run dot net is so bad and copy paste is a sin | |
| He was only seventeen | |
| Local boy with small-town dreams | |
| No one ever questioned it | |
| Figured it was his best bet | |
| Straight from school to his first tour | |
| The constant fear that he endured | |
| How are you gonna carry on | |
| So far away from home | |
| Oh native son | |
| Oh where have you gone | |
| Oh native son | |
| You're not coming home | |
| Folded flag, the family name | |
| Proud soldier in a picture frame | |
| How are we gonna carry on | |
| When all our faith is gone | |
| Oh native son | |
| (How am I supposed to carry on) | |
| Oh where have you gone | |
| (How am I supposed to carry on) | |
| Oh native son | |
| (How am I supposed to carry on) | |
| You're not coming home | |
| (All my faith is gone) | |
| Oh native son | |
| (How am I supposed to carry on) | |
| Oh where have you gone | |
| (All my faith, all my faith is gone) | |
| Oh native son | |
| (How am I supposed to carry on) | |
| You're not coming home |
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