Written by Detective S. D. Meska, Sheriff's Anti-Crime/Narcotics Unit in North Carolina after learning of the death of a fellow friend and police officer.

There's a memorial in Washington
with names engraved in stone,
and I stood there not so long ago,
my thoughts and I alone.

There's the name of a City Policeman,
there's a Deputy and a Fed.
It reads like a mournful metronome,
this monument to our dead.

And as I stood there reading,
with roses for the brave,
I heard a spectral voice ring out
as if from beyond the grave.

"We are the dead of Law Enforcement,"
the spirit voice began,
"And I think we have the right
to ask some questions, man to man."

"Have you learned anything at all,
from the way we passed away?"
"Is there something there that just might help,
you survive another day?"

"Have you learned anything at all,
from the way we passed away?"
"Is there something there that just might help,
you survive another day?"

"Does a flag draped coffin in America,
now mean anything at all?"
"I wonder how my family felt,
when they got that late night call."

"And when they took us to the grave yard,
escorted by ranks of blue,
did you start to realize,
the next one might be you?"

"There're lessons here that might save you,
if only you will heed."
"But I wonder if a dead cop’s mother,
ever is in need."

"And the children we left behind,
so lost, alone, and small."
"Can they replace their Parent,
with a photo on the wall?"

"We're buried, now, and so long gone,
And all the tears have dried."
"And we probably died in vain,
but learn from how we died."