Wagin' War

Well, I read about a baby
that was wounded by a bullet
that was meant for her… Momma!
Well, I read about a baby
that was wounded by a bullet
that was meant for her… Momma!
The young soldier that shot her had nothing against her.
The young soldier that shot her had nothing against her.
When! We were wagin' war.
When! We were wagin' war. (Refrain)
But momma was a rebel so she would have to die.
«Just followin' orders», the young soldier sighed
as he squeezed on the trigger and let the round fly.
Though she believed in truths just as strongly as he;
their personal Napoleons could never agree.
He might’ve asked why? But then again, foreign tongues have a tendency to tie.
War fueled adrenalin junkies and jock-ass news reporters
mr. & ms. taking missiles and tracers and rockets and mortars
for Fourth O’July fire flys that light up the skies
while bombastic bomb blasts blow out their eyes.
And the damaged eye always wonders, why?
Busy boyish hands flying air conditioned cock pits.
Playing dungeons and dragons and delighting in direct hits.
High above reality and anquished human cries
Separated by ninja turtle nintendo screens blocking out the whys?
But then again, bloody bull’s eyes wins extra tries.
Patriotic rites of passage push and pull us straight to hell.
High hoped heroes exchanging emotions
for protective plastic shells.
Can you look them in the eye again;
can you pat them on the back?
When they kill for you… believe in you…
believe in where you’re at.
Take your A Wax and A 10 and A this n’that.
Take your A Wax and A 10 and shove it up your!!!