She grabbed my hand, and pulled me to the dance floor,
And I thought, ****! I should hold onto these hands more.
So I did my best to impress her,
Palms sweaty from the pressure,
But I wiped them off, on the dry of my pants,
And reached over, to try for her hands.
Success! We rearranged our fingers until they were laced,
And my kind of dry palms finally felt her embrace.
So they began to sweat again from excitement and being hot,
And though Lost was on TV, I was hearing little and seeing not,
For my entire focus was on our hands clasped by my side,
And how at first I was so nervous, I nearly collapsed when I tried,
But now that are hands are together, nothing could go wrong,
And now are hands are together, as I had hoped for so long.
And I realized,
Her hands are like hot chocolate when the weather is cold,
There’s nothing more in this world, that is better to hold.
And you really start thinking, how they get all this in a mug,
And I can feel my heart sinking, because now I get a kiss and a hug.
But I still feel at ease when I’m holding on to her hand,
And so I was wondering please, could I hold on to your hand,
When we sit on my bed, play cards and just talk,
When all morning I’ve read, and I need to just walk,
When we drive circles in the city, and walk the same streets,
When we each get one headphone, and rock the same beats,
When I see you smile, and my heart power starts and can’t stop,
When I start to smile, thinking about flower parks and those **** cops,
When I walk you back to your room, but I wished you could stay,
When next time your back in my room, and I’ll kiss you all day.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I really like these and all,
But the best in when you hold my hand, for no reason at all.

Its perjury, it’s murdering. The government lies and the soldier dies, as we are lead to our demise. Every day we’re losin lives, just think about the wives, the kids, the moms, but we’re still droppin bombs. How many things are gonna blow up, it makes me wanna throw up, why cant you just grow up and refuse to fight, don’t abuse the might, of the army, the navy, and the marines. This **** is obscene! Blood is something you cant clean, just look at your hands, what are your plans? To turn every rock into sand? You’ve got the material, you can be serial killin machines if you want. You can change the font, but the words are still the same, you cant pass off the blame. I see the game your playin and I hear the words you’re sayin. But you’re still gonna ****, just add it to our bill, we’re in debt so you can rule the east. In Sunday school they teach how to be a good man, I’m sure you understand, but its not a part of your plan, you just wanna **** the afghan cuz he has a long beard, his beliefs are kinda weird, he has a different book but if you really look, he is human being, that’s the part yall aren’t seeing. Every time we lose a soldier just put his name in the folder, our hearts are getting colder and the mother- have you told her? Now your duty is done? You told her you killed her son, and it’s no longer your responsibility? How do you have that ability? To just move on without remorse, you’re on a destructive course and its only getting worse. We have lost thousands of our own but think of all the names that we haven’t been shown, so many families in the Middle East with empty seats at the family feast. The war is a beast. But there is no beauty. Why is it our duty to overthrow governments overseas? Can we overthrow ours please? They say its we the people… you and me the people? Who gets to be the people? They can’t even see the people. They’ve got their blinders on, thinking that what’s behind is gone, that man at your feet with one leg, homeless on the street havin to beg but he cant even eat one egg, he was part of your war, now he doesn’t have a job anymore, tell him that it’s time to move on, but he cant even put one shoe on. Look at those old ratty clothes, the ones that make you plug your nose, where did he get those? He wore that uniform in your war, he used to look good before, but now he’s all covered in dirt, so you cant even read his shirt. It’s been turned into a rag, but if you read the name tag, he’s got your name, you’re the one to blame. He was just a pawn in your game, but we’re not living on a chessboard, that’s the part that you ignored. Every pawn has a family, a mom and a grammy. What if it was your son? Would you give him a gun and tell him you love him for that one last time? Its just American pastime, like baseball and apple pie, its tradition to let the soldiers die.