Aftermath

Daylight breaking, the worst is over
Charlie’s not coming back,
relax a bit, light a smoke
might even hit the rack.

Canteen’s empty, rifle’s dirty
got mosquito bites all over,
the body out beyond the wire
is going to be a bloater.

Our bunker’s down, took an RPG
hope those guys are OK,
but if they’re not…well they’re not,
nothing more to say.

The correspondent is filming again
where was he last night?
probably in the dugout
shittin’ himself in fright.

If he asks me how I feel
I’m going to knock him down,
candy ass civilian
just a f***ing clown.

Four months left till I rotate back
heard my girlfriend got knocked up,
the Chaplin’s pushing salvation
with grape juice in his cup.

Jesus is just a curse word here
in this green and muddy hell,
and we’ve given up on heaven
‘cause there’s no future to foretell.


by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved