| I was getting out, without a doubt
|
| This was my last patrol, wished I could shout
|
| But then the reds were there
|
| We were taking our share
|
| Fifteen to thirty, but fair is fair
|
| I was fighting wild, shooting blind
|
| Nothing I could do, nowhere I could go
|
| Someone yelled, «keep your head down low»
|
| I heard men crying, knew they were dying
|
| And for the first time, I realized
|
| My sergeant lied!
|
| On my way home in a body bag
|
| A one-way ticket, but I couldn’t brag
|
| I was seeing green, seeing red
|
| With an aching, throbbing, emptiness in my head
|
| Trying to breathe, I fought for air
|
| I was alive, but nobody cared
|
| We left the planet
|
| Then we had landed
|
| Soon picked up by an army truck
|
| Someone gave me a shovel and told me to dig
|
| I said, «fuck off and die, capitalist pig!» |