I'M SO INTO DEATH I WANT
TO LIVE TO TELL ABOUT IT
Now the combat crouch - two massive kids,
holding automatic weapons; young soldiers
in disguise, working for the government. So
young yet the peach fuzz is still on their balls.
But no matter - the clatter and chatter of
command and routine they take to already. They
sleep in their cammo khakis, and walk up for
Reveille when the militant cock crows.
-
Here's my dice, and my dominos, and my little
ratty stories, right on the table for you : Corporal
Malfeasant you can listen at will. Fallujah, some
small girl with black hair; yeah so what, we all took
a turn. I work for my money and that's what I
earn. In fact, I remember good old Uncle Sam
even taking his turn. Terror or religious war,
take your pick because I don't know what
either are for.
-
Have I told you? I want to live to be a hundred
and ten, and then some if I can. Government
Army pension, maybe a pacemaker or an artificial
heart, some medicine for coming coming in the mail.
Every month, like clockwork I'm set. Life is good,
better than I could ever bet. I'm so into Death I
want to live to tell about it.
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