The bugs have overwhelmed my deet defence,
So I've retreated behind the screen door,
Smoking by the doorway, leaning back in a chair,
Lindsey Buckingham, Stevie Nicks, and Christine McVie are haunting me with their words,
To never break the chain...
My eyes feel like there's grit in them,
I drink a glass of water to rehydrate a bit,
To counteract the cigarette's sting,
Of 2 packs smoked when I should have only smoked one.
I feel like a record player, and my table belt is just slightly off kilter,
Making me so my rounds just a little too fast,
Just fast enough to be noticeable and an annoyance.
13% battery left,
How many more can I do?

Sitting out here in the porch,
Listening to Tool,
My phone is fast dying,
Probably best that I allow it,
It's good for it long term,
To every once in a while just let it run
Completely out if juice.

Is that true for humans too?

When asked what ruck marches are like,
And I'm talking about those legendary light infantry ruck marches,
This is how I explain it:

Take your bedroom,
And try to shove it all into a military issue ruck sack,
Feeling impossible yet?
If so, you are on the right track.
If not, keep adding things to said rucksack until it does feel impossible.

You take a certain kind of baby powder and apply it to your neck, feet, groin, basically anywhere that's going to chafe (i.e. your entire body by the end)
Wrap your heels up, but not too much, because it's going to have to come off anyway,
after your heels start to bleed.

Put on your 2nd best pair of socks on,
Your best pair is for when you need a morale boost.

Put on your body armor,
But for the love of God don't use your inner elastic stap,
You won't be able to breath.

MAKE SURE YOU HYDRATE!!!
nuff said

Ensure you have all your kit and put it on the scale

...

98 pounds.
So add in body armor and your weapon, as well as ammunition and a carton of smokes,
You're looking at a cool 130 lbs (59 Kg),
More so if your a machine gunner, ammo bearer, or anti-armor specialists,
Which I usually was,
So I'd say add an extra 20 pounds (9 Kg)  to be safe.

Now you're all strapped up,
Your kit isn't slipping,
And nothing is pinching,
Take that unwieldy, difficult to disengage from silhouette,
And go on a 20 mile foot movement,
With expectation that you are going to get ambushed.

That's what a ruck is like.

Am I going insane?
Or do I hear a track playing in the background of Led Zeppelin's "Babe I'm going to leave you"?
Around the 1:42 mark,
Hiding right below the guitar,
Playing whisper soft,
Plant is crying out something,
Something too soft to decipher.

I hope I'm not hearing things

They say that the stairway to heaven is long and precarious, and some say it never ends.

I can't remember who first told me that,
And I can't find any reference to it,
Believe me I've looked.

Robert plan is informing me of the woman now,
After being led in by the acoustic guitar and flutes,
Foolish woman,
Learning at the very last minute,
That her life was a waste and her hoards of wealth mean nothing to her now.

Plant says that this song can have as many meanings as stars in the sky.

Nice thoughts to start a run to.

The same four notes haunt me,
Like the ghosts lost to the sea,
             Da
                                        Dah
                  ­  Doo
***            

Floyd flexing their synth might,
Their system tried and true,
Music to get lost in space to,
At least until I hit the Darkside of the Moon.

I sit here.
Contemplating it all,
Of the difficulties and obstacles that one must encounter,
When in the pursuit of making a concept album.

So many parts must go into it,
To tell a proper narrative,
With lyrics written well enough to not just sound like spoken word.
Rush is a master of this technique,
To be able to make such an easily understood story,
All one has to listen to do is listen to the lyrics,
Acknowledge the musical cues,
Maybe is given a few lines of backstory,
And is at least a little bit smart,
They are told quite a touching tale.

Pink Floyd does it well,
Telling tales of oppression,
Of goodbyes to friends,

The Who do it multiple times,
From a young London man,
Besiged by nostalgia for the bad old days,
To the telling of a deaf, dumb, and blind kid,
And his struggles as he goes through life.

Green Day seems to have done it most recently (in the proper format) with some success,
The struggles of their "Jesus of Suburbia",
A story of anger, love, rejection, and suicide.

It seems like most time the protagonist of concept albums always get the end of the stick,
Why is that?
That the underdog can't ever seem to catch a break?
Death is his end destination,
No ifs, ands, or buts about it,
That or they are placed in a situation where death is preferable,
Because all hope is lost?
Or if they're caught on the cusp of the unknown,
Which can be quite as bad.

So here's to you, you lunatics,
You rebels of causes untold,
You'll live in these story's forever,
Your vinyl Valhalla victorious and verbose.