i know grass is green beacuse of the blood we shed.
i know that we as americans honor our dead.
we fight and toil behind the gears and oil, for we are the makers of desteny.
i play my part, with all my heart, for i know not when it will cease to beat.
my men cry tears for loved ones at home, while others slam and break the phone.
for me not a penny to spare for the family back there.
i dont wanna hear there crys and tears.
i dont wanna know there hopes or fears.
i know my job , im judge and jury, with a trigger and a bang , my sentece is rang.
for i know its do or die.
the land of sand , has taken my hands and filled them with blood.
the heated winds carry my firey tones, as blood is poured and it shatters the bones.
me and my men say do or die, i say essayons, let us try.
- for me and my bretheren
not like me to wrtie this crap but its been pent up for some time
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