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I
had never seen you cry like that
A man, an old soldier telling the story
It was on a summer night, on the terrace
A sweetness as if it was the South
And we listened to your memory
You could see your twenty-year-old friends
Their bodies on the beach, in the Normandy bushes
And the huge Battle of the Bulge
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You
also remembered our little town
You were the first American
On your Harley, symbol of recovered Liberty
Spearhead of the Liberty Soldiers
Girls, flowers, crowd, joy and hope were recovered
"Voulez-vous promenade, Mademoiselle", you asked
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And
then, you were gone again
Sedan, Luxemburg, the Ardennes, the Elbe
From time to time cursing those officers who led you there
Here, we all thought you had died
Only your memory lived in our minds
As a powerful symbol
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We
found you half a century later
In your home state Alabama, way down south
Every year you come back
The girls from 44 recognized your smile
And your eyes, so blue that love could drawn in them
Here, you are with those who became your family
And also hundreds of friends
We are celebrating with our vehicles dating from another period
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But
moreover with a warm friendship
With you, we know its true and strong meaning
The one that unites people as in combat
Beyond what they called patriotism, languages and culture
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I
remember, one day
As we were visiting a display
"I was 20 years old in 1944"
An old woman came over to you with a child
"Say Thank You to this gentleman"…Merci Monsieur!
Thank you veteran
We will never repeat this enough!
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And
also, during the first days when you came back
You met with an old German soldier who now lives in Peruwelz
By modesty, we left both of you together,
Because you were crying in each others arms
Just men thrown in a stupid combat
That they did not control.
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I also remember this cemetery
It was at Luxemburg
Lines of white marble crosses
It was at Luxemburg
Wearing your uniform
You were saluting Patton
And you said this phrase
"Here are those who are mine"
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Then came your last departure
From Bon-Secours
And you wanted to leave your uniform
The one you were wearing with pride in front of Patton
Pretending your suitcase was full
We both of us caught some kind of farewell
And you would be with us in our minds only
Gathered to continue the memory
Of a tradition, as every year
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I am
listening to Glenn Miller
Alone in my room
Alone with some kind of ghosts
Those from Omaha, Utah and Bastogne
They came from America to bring us Liberty
They left their fiancées, their mothers, their wives,
All of those who define a man
A cruel departure at the dawn of life
They are alive in our memory
As a Liberty Soldier doesn't die
He shades off, he fades.
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I
want to drive my jeep
Marked with the star
And drive without end
To recall those who are shading
Those who are fading
So that their memory can live forever,
Symbol of recovered Liberty
We have to cherish, we have to defend.
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