| Well I dozed off in the back of the bus
|
| To the groan of the Greyhounds throttle
|
| And I woke to crack of a paper sack
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| And a cork poppin' from a bottle
|
| I tell you son the old man said
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| It was hell in world war two
|
| As he rolled up his pant leg
|
| I saw the wood that filled his shoe
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| The younger man who followed him in opened up his vest
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| Showed the older soldier where he caught one in the chest
|
| Both of them had purple hearts for the hell that they’ve been through
|
| Well I don’t have no purple heart mine’s just black and blue
|
| Oh love is a never ending war
|
| March me into action
|
| And we’ll train for what’s in store
|
| You win some and you lose some
|
| But I believe in what i’m fightin' for
|
| Oh love is a never ending war
|
| They where half-way through that bottle
|
| And they where gettin' high
|
| I never fought in those two wars
|
| But Lord my throat was dry
|
| So I showed them scars and stitches
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| Inflicted by Maria
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| But I didn’t think that would give me a drink
|
| So I blamed it on Korea
|
| I parted my hair and I showed them where
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| I got shrapnel from a grenade
|
| I just couldn’t tell it was where Annabelle
|
| Put a glas of lemonade
|
| How that I’ve been tortured by the blade of a bajonet
|
| And I never forget that hot August night
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| And the fingernails of Jeanet
|
| As I neared my destination I saw tears well in their eyes
|
| Partly from the drinkin' but mostly from my lies
|
| And they stood up to salute me
|
| As I stepped down from the bus
|
| And out of the open window they yelled
|
| Give her hell for us |