The last song I actually cried to was a tune by Edwin McCain, called "Prayer to St. Peter" off the Messenger CD. The lyrics are based on a poem he found in a WWII museum, probably written by a soldier in the field. Goes like this:
Let them in, Peter,
for they are very tired
give them couches where the angels sleep
and light those fires
let them wake whole again
to brand new dawns
fired by the sun,
not wartime's bloody guns
and may their peace be deep
remember where the broken bodies lie
God knows how young they were
to have to die
Give them things they like
let them make some noise
give dance hall bands, not golden harps
to these our boys
and let them love, Peter
for they've had no time
they should have bird songs and trees
and hills to climb
the taste of summer and a ripened pear
and girls sweet as meadow winds
with flowing hair
and tell them how they are missed
but say not to fear
it's gonna be all right with us down here
Check it out, dude, you'll love it.