THE WAR
The year was nineteen sixty-eight
I was in my nineteenth year
I graduated from high school
And the future seemed unclear
I couldn't escape destiny
That which I feared the most
I had to serve my country
And go to a foriegn post

I never thought of myself as a soldier
And I didn't want to kill
But my country was calling me
So I went to learn that skill
I didn't know what war was like
But I thought I would give it a try
But the thought kept nagging me
That I would go there and die

My heart slowly turned to stone
I became cold and mean
They taught us how to shoot and kill
And be a good Marine
I learned that trade the best I could
I would not turn and run
I finally resigned within myself
I would live in that land of hot sun

My name became a number
In that outfit of Uncle Sam
And after six months of training
I was bound for Vietnam
I learned many things about life
My fate seemed very clear
I wouldn't be living my life out
For my end seemed very near

They handed us our weopans
You had to shoot or die
You had to kill or be killed
And ask no reason why
I walked all over that country
Strange sights came into view
Most of the people were friendly
The enemy were few

That whole nation of people
Employed in their various trades
Working for the bare necessities
Inbetween the communist raids
The eastern way of living
Was a mystery to me
They did not believe in progress
And stayed in poverty

They practised their old traditions
And never seemed to advance
And with each new generation
They never got a chance
There was no set battle field
There were no enemy lines
Everywhere was no-mans land
Booby-traps and land mines

Sometimes we'd engage in a conflict
Sometimes the shooting would cease
And few were the tranquil moments
Where you could sit down & think of peace
Yes I walked all over that country
But there's nothing I regret
About anything I did over there
And the rest I'm bound to forget

We left our homes in the states
To that foreign land of endless toil
And turned into wild animals
Longing for American soil
That was back in nineteen sixty-eight
When I was only nineteen
I looked and acted older then
For the things that I had seen

As the months passed in Vietnam
I got tired of being on the constant roam
All my thoughts and aspirations
Centered around going home
I'd been in that place too long
Anyone could plainly see
I prayed to the Lord late one day
To set my spirit free

My skin was covered with dust and dirt
My clothes were worn to rags
I couldn't get over the constant thought
Of bodies flown home in bags
The moral of the troops grew low
With each new casualty
And with the apathy felt back home
There was no morality

All this took place long ago
History will record
Whatever was right or wrong
Will eventually be ingored
But there is one lesson I learned
That I have lived to tell
It's the same lesson Sherman learned
And that is WAR IS HELL