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!"
|
|
-----------------
|
On My Way Home
|
| D.R.I. |
