Lachrymae
.
Backing fast with whining motors,
Counting on the downbeat rotors…
.
They’re too young to know.
We’re too old to care.
Just take that precious gun,
Head on over there.
It’s a one-way ticket down
Sand-swept desert roads,
Sweat-filled days, freezing nights,
Lousy food, heavy ammo loads.
Scenery’s changed,
Faces, too,
But if we take the time to look,
Nothing’s all that new.
.
Muted strains of Barry McGuire,
Compete with cracks from rapid fire.
Silver wings on Barry Sadler…
What year is this, and does it matter?
Just like plans, hopes and dreams,
Their songs are different,
But not their screams.
It’s all music for napalm’s pyre.
To fight for democracy,
That’s why we came.
Our reason’s never changed, still,
Pain remains the same.
.
Let’s give ourselves a hand, a pat on the back,
Father’s sins repaid, for those our children lack.