Now that the bullets have come from their hiding places,
watch us as we do our dance on the ground.
Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand gernades,
I almost survived, that one.

Once green pastures are now fields of death,
where only the corpses grow.
Muddy holes or burial ground,
funny how little it makes a difference.

My bloody hands,
can you wash them for me?
They've been stained too long.

My tattered soul,
can you save it for me?
It's been soiled too long.

Watch bodies fly, as elegant as dancers,
fall like broken dolls to the floor.
Even the Grim Reaper thinks twice about coming here,
a mortar shot'll be the last think you'll ever hear.

A red badge of courage is awarded to us,
the ones that charged the machine gun nest.
There's Satan, coming with the Calvery,
because this has got to be hell.

My sinning hands,
can you bless them for me?
They've been killing too long.

My broken mind,
can you mend it for me?
It's seen more than any man should.

04/17/2004

Posted on 04/18/2004
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