Die Like A Man


He shaved his face first thing this morning
a cut-throat razor for hair that don’t grow.
But its the rule and regulation;
gotta be clean-shaven to battle the foe.
Too young to vote, drink and whore,
but old enough to kill and maim.
His first real love, Mary-Lou, said she’d be
waiting for him as he left on the train.

The country’s leader on the news again:
Preaching black and white.
Safe and secure in his office
Trust in Him and hope he’s right.

Yeah they’re just
Boys marching to war – kissed his momma goodbye, had to promise to write.
Boys marching to war – automatic in their hands, gonna die like a man.
Boys marching to war – Mary-Lou was there too, but he didn’t dare to.
Boys marching to war – Mary-Lou he would miss, and he’d wait for her kiss.
Boys marching to war – step-daddy shook his hand, gonna die like a man.
Boys marching to war – and the generals look on, they don’t know anyone.
Boys marching to war – The Commander in chief, leading from the back seat

It’s not declared a war, so no-one’s a traitor.
He can’t pronounce where he is, and he feels so alone.
He sleeps next to his rifle, backpack and knife.
U.S. Government Issue and he really misses home.
His bunk-mate’s face was blown off yesterday,
a good looking guy with few personal effects.
Heard him screaming for his momma for over an hour.
He don’t let it show but he wonders if he’s next.

PRE-CHORUS

CHORUS

He looks in the mirror, back at the stranger
the man reflected with cold, dead eyes.
Mary-Lou’s still as sweet as her tattered photo,
but she stays away says doesn’t recognise
him. He’s still too young to frequent the bars,
but looks twice his age, and drinks to forget.
But the memories and demons won’t make their peace,
so he fights them alone (a) neglected (Viet)’nam vet.


PRE-CHORUS

CHORUS
©3.12.2011 Andrew Robert Chapman

Too young to vote, visit pubs and brothels,
He can’t pronounce where he is, and it sure ain’t home.
Surrounded by soldiers but always alone.

gotta kill and maim and gore,
so drink up boys, we’re goin’ to war.
….. which race or creed,
gotta do some dirty deeds.
gotta pay in blood for the mistakes of men in suits.

just a chamber away from the revolver back home.


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