Underground_Network
June 24th, 2009, 04:48 PM
There is a military garrison; a complex setting
Of guns, ammunition, and men of war.
One man there; lets call him "Peter,"
Has blond hair and blue eyes.
He likes to smoke cigarettes
Around one P.M. everyday,
Except for Saturday,
When he prefers to play poker
With the other soldiers in his platoon.
Peter is a rather strange individual.
Always joking about war
And laughing in the face of death.
He claims he once saw a man torn limb from limb,
When he stepped on a claymore
Back when he was fighting in Afghanistan.
He claimed he even saw another guy,
A 'kid' he called him, get hit in the hand
With a rocket-propelled grenade
And he said the hand got blown straight off,
But it his hand at such a perfect angle
That it didn't kill the kid.
According to Peter
That kid now lives in Des Moines, Iowa with a stump
Where his right hand would be, because he refused
A prosthetic hand, claiming 'if it ain't natural, it ain't worth it.'
What that actually means is unclear to me to be honest,
But I think the kid was just a nutjob.
But yeah, I was just informed that Peter,
The brave-hearted, cocky sonuvabitch
I've known since the freedom-bringing age of eighteen,
Where we met in a military school
On the east coast, who's name is so well known
It might as well be tattooed to the heart
Of the United States of America,
Witnessed something that has 'changed him for life.'
According to one of his commanding officers,
Peter saw a guy get gunned down
At his military garrison in southern Louisiana.
The guy was gunned down with an M249 LMG,
By another soldier in Peter's platoon
Who was angry with the now-deceased patriot
For stealing the whiskey he had hidden under
His bed in his bunk, an old, blue, dying building.
Peter, from what I hear, is now a changed man.
He no longer smokes, his eyes are a darker shade of blue,
His hair is graying, and he's only twenty-nine.
He doesn't joke about anything anymore, and from what I hear
He doesn't even laugh anymore.
Some would call this an evolution in character,
I call it dynamic retribution.
Of guns, ammunition, and men of war.
One man there; lets call him "Peter,"
Has blond hair and blue eyes.
He likes to smoke cigarettes
Around one P.M. everyday,
Except for Saturday,
When he prefers to play poker
With the other soldiers in his platoon.
Peter is a rather strange individual.
Always joking about war
And laughing in the face of death.
He claims he once saw a man torn limb from limb,
When he stepped on a claymore
Back when he was fighting in Afghanistan.
He claimed he even saw another guy,
A 'kid' he called him, get hit in the hand
With a rocket-propelled grenade
And he said the hand got blown straight off,
But it his hand at such a perfect angle
That it didn't kill the kid.
According to Peter
That kid now lives in Des Moines, Iowa with a stump
Where his right hand would be, because he refused
A prosthetic hand, claiming 'if it ain't natural, it ain't worth it.'
What that actually means is unclear to me to be honest,
But I think the kid was just a nutjob.
But yeah, I was just informed that Peter,
The brave-hearted, cocky sonuvabitch
I've known since the freedom-bringing age of eighteen,
Where we met in a military school
On the east coast, who's name is so well known
It might as well be tattooed to the heart
Of the United States of America,
Witnessed something that has 'changed him for life.'
According to one of his commanding officers,
Peter saw a guy get gunned down
At his military garrison in southern Louisiana.
The guy was gunned down with an M249 LMG,
By another soldier in Peter's platoon
Who was angry with the now-deceased patriot
For stealing the whiskey he had hidden under
His bed in his bunk, an old, blue, dying building.
Peter, from what I hear, is now a changed man.
He no longer smokes, his eyes are a darker shade of blue,
His hair is graying, and he's only twenty-nine.
He doesn't joke about anything anymore, and from what I hear
He doesn't even laugh anymore.
Some would call this an evolution in character,
I call it dynamic retribution.