| I shot you in the arm
|
| It was intentional, or unintentional
|
| My thoughts were unaware
|
| This isn’t our first wound
|
| It’ll look smaller in the morning
|
| When the light reveals
|
| The bigger ones still there
|
| We get three good days
|
| Then it’s back to the barracks, yeah
|
| It’s back to the barracks
|
| Feeling anxious, feeling bad
|
| We get three good days
|
| Then it’s back to the barracks
|
| Wondering if there could be better days ahead
|
| Wasn’t long ago we walked in fields of green
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| There were no mines between the places where we roamed
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| Now we just tiptoe as we both wait to cast the first stone
|
| When those little god damn mines begin to blow
|
| We get three good days
|
| Then it’s back to the barracks, yeah
|
| It’s back to the barracks
|
| Feeling anxious, feeling bad
|
| We get three good days
|
| Then it’s back to the barracks
|
| Wondering if there could be better days ahead
|
| Ooh, ooh, ooh
|
| You shot me in the arm
|
| I saw your face grow pale
|
| And we both knew so well
|
| That nothing had been won
|
| We trigger-worn and wary
|
| And the only thing that scares me
|
| Is the thought that one of us could die alone
|
| Ooh, ooh, ooh
|
| Three good days
|
| Then it’s back to the barracks
|
| Wondering if there could be better days
|
| I know there could be better days
|
| So here’s to all those better days ahead |