There is some corner of an English field where I was born,

Kingdom of my childhood to which allegiance was sworn,

On the little housing estate where my thoughts and dreams would gestate,

I knew the patch of earth my blood was destined to adorn.

Proud to give the army all my might I joined up quick,

I knew that I'd made the right choice, this was the job to pick,

They taught us how to shoot and maim but never let us see,

The naked face of whatever race would become our enemy.

With good intent I fought hell bent for country and for sire,

Desert storms in teacups stirred to strains of friendly fire,

Didn't care that life was fraught with danger and barrage,

Yet human good and fairness was revealed as a mirage.

They could tell me what to do or put me on a charge,

No man could ever know that we would pay a price so large.

I fought on for the children who weren't ready to be born,

A fight for peace across a land that would always be war-torn,

On foreign shores for a good cause I gave body and mind,

Now as I waste away my wasted days are brought to mind,

And, if I should die, think only this of me,

I wish that any place but England were my home country.

A test case for all types of drugs they worked our bodies sore,

Battling exhaustion we forgot what we killed for,

The needle tracks lay in our arms for many years to come,

They sliced our lives in half and left us rotting to the core.

As force drained from my body I became with darkening eyes,

Someone that my lady love could never recognise,

Now she turns away from me as if she could not care,

I cannot really blame her; I was hardly ever there.

My family unit's broken down, I volunteered to join them,

Choosing heart instead of wisdom heart is what I lost.

Ignored by friends and country I began a more difficult fight,

One man against a brick wall between me and public sight.

It's the children I feel sorry for they'll only have to borrow more,

To tell the truth I'm worried raw while symptoms still persist,

The ones that wait still in the womb may find no solace but a tomb,

A candle flame snuffed out so soon they're too weak to resist.

My sickness passed on to my child, undeserved by one so mild,

Unrecognised thus more defiled, my penalty too great,

To bring a baby to this world could be regarded as unkind,

My carefree offspring would be blind to his undeserved fate.

Wars pharmaceutical companies won, the needle and the damage done,

Pills and thrills for everyone with their knapsacks on their back,

To shun me is to go too far - not far enough, fetch feathers and tar,

The minister's here, valderee! Valdera! My knapsack on my back.

Now I feel breath upon my throat from some unholy chemical wraith,

It saps my mind though I will never forget that I served in faith,

Until I see true justice done the struggle's never truly won,

I'll die by honour, not by the gun and not some guinea pig's death.

It's not my nature to complain. I want the Government to explain,

Before there falls a second rain I want people to see,

And when I die - and when I die, think only this of me,

I wish that any place but England was my home country.

Composed for Lethal Exposure by Nick Smith ���������������