Sullivan Ballou, July of 1861
And seven odd days later, he lost his life
In the first battle of Bull Run
And the red, red, red, red breeze
Brushes against your cheek
Heaven it is said shall be my breath
Think I am gone and wait for me
My love for you is deathless
So if my love of country leaves me breathless
And I cannot let you my love again
Brushes against your cheek
Heaven it is said shall be my breath
Think I am gone and wait for me
Our future lies in a shade
Brushes against your cheek
Heaven it is said shall be my breath
Brushes against your cheek
Heaven is telling you my breath