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| Search and Destroy. Men in green pass through the trees, Silent shadows in the evening breeze. Men with cards of death to deal, Alert and probing, Stopping to kneel. Searching for men who have no face, The boys of summer seem out of place. Some from the east and some from the west, Both black and white, They have stood the test. The eyes of youth are hardened and cold, The boy inside growing old. How many men have walked this path, Some finding honor or the devil's wrath? From out of the jungle and into the plain, Darkened figures in the falling rain. Sinew tightens as they near the village, Will they find what they have come to kill? The point man stops then moves once more, He disappears in a shattering roar. Was he Black, White or Red. Does it really matter among the dead? Lifetimes are measured as the battle turns, The victory counted as the village burns. At first light the BODY COUNT is taken, Another scar on a land foresaken. The men in green look on their dead, Bag em, Tag em, Nothing is said. Every man a mirror of haunted eyes, Lurking inside till the day he dies. In the midst of death a baby's cry, Then wail an echo that will never die. The god of war has cast his spell, Giving all a splendid taste of hell. What kind of war will give no rest, That tears a baby from a mother's breast. What kind of man can shoot you down, Then lift the infant off the ground? The boys of summer are going gray, Their souls still captured in another day. They gave their youth and so much more, It matters not, It didn't before. |
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| Requiem for the Warrior. For many years I've had the thought, For those who fell in battles fought. Where in heaven will they reside? Those who soldiered fought and died. From the war that gave this country freedom, To the bloody hell they called Vietnam. In World War II they paid the cost, In Vietnam the cause was lost. Honnor in battle carries a certain pride, Shared by the living and those who died. On special days all give their praise, Parades and speeches, a flag to raise. At night whenever the nation sleeps, The warrior remembers and silently weeps. Weeps for the youth of so long ago, Those who fell at Pearl Harbour, Io Jima, Guadalcanal, Then Khe Sanh, Da Nang and Chu Lai. Wars are fought to give nations peace, But only death offers the warrior release. Is there a place for those who fought? Where friends and enemies are finaly brought? I see all theire faces in tormented dreams, Calling to me or so it seems. Will we be as we where in days gone past? Will the sounds of battle be stilled at last? Death will return to visit me, This time for all eternity. While looking down into my grave, Warriors will speak of one who was brave. Will I hear the sounds of musket fire? or feel the flag resting above my bier? Will the boys of summer gather round once more? To honor a veteran of the Vietnam War? When taps is played from a distant hill, For a man who was never meant to kill? If from above I could see the throng, Will I then know if I was right or wrong? |
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