The Jungle Fighter
             
"We hunt them down through thick or thin
We hunt them down to the very end.
The jungle's our home and teeming with death
We ride the mist of the serpent's hot breath.
We are camouflage, we are unseen
Our ways so cold, our souls so mean.
Hand to hand and knife to knife
Kill the gooks,  worry only of our life!
And when the day is at hand and we finally come in
We prepare for the night and do it all over again.

--This is the way of the jungle fighter my friend
to kill or be killed our morals descend.
--Yes this is our way, one year at a time 
I know it sounds crazy,
                       but I like it just fine..."

...................................................................

          Cry Softly For Your Son

"He was a brave fighter, speak well if you please
For he waited on Charles in mud up past his knees.
They had closed off our front, The sides and the rear
But we fought them all to the death, without any fear.
They lashed out an attack like a raging storm
Like demons from hell, they kept true to form.
Our barrels grew hot, the ammo ran thin
And every shot was used to the very end.
We leapt from our ditches with k-bar in hand
A time for bravery, we made our final stand.
The bodies piled and blood did run 
Dogs of war 'neath that Asian sun.
My body was riddled and I fell to the ground
My men were all dead, their bodies lay 'round.
A smile from the Cong leader, his laughter did swell
I spit at his feet and told him to go straight to hell!
His pistol flashed white, the bullet did crack
I saw brilliant colors, then shades of black.

--Cry softly for your son, for his country he died
engulfed in anguish, nowhere to run, no place to hide.
--Tears from his mother, a pain that won't settle
cry softly for your son,
                        his life for a metal..."

...................................................................

            A Collection Of Friends

"The battle field lies silent amid the hovering smoke
My job is at hand, the choppers land and I take another toke.
I have not come to fight and time seemingly drags
I have come to collect my friends with body bags!
Battle and death crash inside my head and echo the sound
As I look upon the bodies that cover the ground.
They lay twisted and coupled, fierce fighting by all
Oh how the wind amplifies loudly the maggots' call!
When my job is over and I have collected the lot
It is then time to get wasted on whiskey and pot.
 
--Yes I am a collector with a collection of friends
their names I know not but they died bravely in the end.
--And along with my friends, I am a collector of pain
I can't take this much longer,
                              I am going insane..."