| Cigarettes and a bottle of beer, this poem that I wrote for you
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| This black stone and these hard tears are all I got left now of you
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| I remember you in your Marine uniform laughin', laughin' at your ship out party
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| I read Robert McNamara says he’s sorry
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| Your high boots and striped T-shirt, Billy you looked so bad
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| You and your rock-n-roll band, you were best thing this shit town ever had
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| Now the men who put you here eat with their families in rich dining halls
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| And apology and forgiveness got no place here at all at the wall
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| I’m sorry I missed you last year, I couldn’t find no one to drive me
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| If your eyes could cut through that black stone, tell me would they recognize me
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| For the living time it must be served, the day goes on
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| Cigarettes and a bottle of beer, skin on black stone
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| On the ground dog tags and wreaths of flowers, with ribbons red as the blood
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| Red as the blood you spilled in the Central Highlands mud
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| Limousines rush down Pennsylvania Avenue, rustling the leaves as they fall
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| And apology and forgiveness got no place here at all
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| Here at the wall |