Sunday morning, he gets out of bed
Last nights beer, running through his head
His dad says 'son, get a job
Your laying round the house like some kind of slob'
Later that morning on TV
It says 'Know who your mates are, come join the army'
He writes down the number picks up the phone
Hey there Ma, you boy is leaving home

The boy is leaving home

Ten months later, Afghanistan
A twenty-first century Vietnam
Sarge says 'son, take my advice,
Keep your head down, watch out for the road side device'
Back at Bastion things aint that great,
But he's doing his bit, and his with his mates
One Thursday night his on the phone
He says 'My leaves coming up Ma, I'm coming home'

The boy is coming home

Early morning the plane touches down
On a concrete runway, just outside of town
The aircrew take the British flag
Place it on the bodies of those brave lads
And the towns folk gather there
Women weep, little children stare
Five black cars, he's not alone
Hey there Ma, your boys come home

The boy is coming home

Lyrics submitted by Stashyjon

The Boy (Coming Home) song meanings
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