It's the last few hours..
the  seats and trays put up..
Most of the passengers are starting to wake up..
somewhere down there, thousand feet below...
waiting for me....home.
Asphalt drive ways, no IED's..
warm hugs from friends..
no enemy...
Home...
Please wait till we have reached our destination...
palms sweating now..feel a hesitation..
So lucky for me... a tear fills my eye..
not all of us got the chance to be on this flight...
Home......

Lately I've been fighting back the urge for crying,
really don't know what's wrong with me.
Guess I've lost the grip on my denying
that the dark pain would never be seen.
Doors have opened where the ghosts all were hiding,
got no more fight left in me.
No strength left to keep my face smiling,
time to face cold reality.
Lately.........feel the urge for crying.....
really , I know what's wrong with me.

Me and couple of my buddies tailgate of our trucks,
sipping moonshine from coffee cups.
Swatting at mosquitos and telling lies,
getting further from the truth with every sip of the Shine.
Dont be a stranger when you pull up,
yonder is the jug and some extra cups.
Now some  folk cannot handle the sip then  the bite,
leaves more for others, quite all right.
Here comes another stretch of the truth,
now keep on passing the jug once you're through.

Would have been too easy to just walk away,
let the words of hate just fade,
live for another day....
but there was pride in motion.
So here is where the tears come from,
look at what cannot be undone,
lost  daughters and sons....
because of pride in motion.
The tribes people had the right words to say,
let the dark horse ride away,
sleep away any shame....
but there was too much pride in motion.
There will many more songs on tongues,
words of what was done....
but we will never learn to stop pride in motion.
So here is where we will lay,
we will never learn to walk away,
let the dark horse  see the other side of day....
let pride stay in motion...............

Oh don't go deep into my waters baby,
for I run cold  under neath,
Stay close to your life line baby,
don't go where you caint see.
For I can be refreshing to you baby,
or sweep you out to sea.
No, No, don't go dredging in my dark waters, baby,
got no control over what you will see.
If you let the foolish side of you take over,baby,
you not going to like what you find in me.
I'm like the ocean waters, oh so much uncontrolled energy,
I can give so much to you baby,
just got to know there is no controlling me,
I'm not in charge of my dark waters baby,
so you'd be a fool to  not believe........
Don't go deep into my waters..........Baby.

Bathing... she was waist deep in the river,
body glistening in the morning sun.
A sharp contrast to our eyes,
considering the hell we just came from.
The Lt became a West Point gentelman,
Pvt.Pete's face turned a brighter shade of red,
I gave the order to ground rucks and kindly turn our heads.
I walked up to the rivers edge and with broken words and sign,
tried my best to assure  this bathing beauty, that every thing was fine.
Seems though it was us more put out then her,
she gave us all a smile.
air dried her long black hair , then casualy walked by.
She disappeared into the same jungle we had been in for days,
gave one last look back and gave us all a wave.
Now the men all had been smoked, rucks had took their toll
but there was not a single grip when i gave the order to hit the road.

On the back of our property, up on a hill,
an old black oak stands still.
Spent alot of time under those limbs,
Dad and me, putting engines back in.
Him just a cuzzin and wrenches flying,
me with a flashlight  with a battery dying.
Run out of daylight and patience at times
but he'd get the old clunker running just fine.
There was time in the making with this man I called Dad,
learning in progress, good or bad.
I learned that a garage is  easier to work in,
easier to find tools thrown when the temper sets in.
Found that my daughters are not afraid of grease on  their hands,
all because of lessons learned from the man called Dad.
Those that take the time, energy , committ,
to the tasks at hand , then the name will fit.
Step up to the plate, take your stand,
welcome to the world of men called Dad.

Had my foot resting on the pig pen,
watching my sows bringing new litters in,
wondering if these would help ends meet.
The crops all dried in that Texas heat,
we had to find work in the city so we could eat.
That was 35 summers ago.
Stood in line with all my gear on,
about two hours before dawn,
worried if I was going to qualify.
They dropped us, rolled us
and pretty much as they pleased,
got rid of a lot of boys except me,
told me to get back in line.
That was 35 summers ago.
  Thirty five summers of doing it all,
sometimes knocked on my *** and **** near crawl,
made a life out of what I have.
Seen things I did'nt want to see,
did things that would normally not be me,
made it through most of the tough times.
That was 35 summers ago.
Hope I got 35 more summers to go.

I have not done what he has done,
I know where he has been.
He has not been where I have gone,
yet knows the things I did.
I am my Fathers Son.
He tried to shield me from this path,
I wanted to follow his.
He never told anyone ,
I wanted to hear all of it.
I am my Fathers Son.
Together we now see each other,
the shroud has been lowered down.
The things that needed doing then,
still need doing now.
I grear up as he did then,
I am my Fathers Son.

Got her little fingers in my ear
or her toes digging into my back.
Got me sleeping on the edge of my bed
when we take a nap.
For such a tiny thing, she takes up most of my bed,
stretched out from end to end, toes to head.
So that gives me plenty of time , sit there while she sleeps
and look at this little piece of Heaven that the Good Lord sent to me.
Now I'm not saying that all of this has been an easy road
but I would'nt  trade these moments for a lighter load.
So I cover myself back up with whats left of the warning label from the spread,
feel her snuggle up beside me and I kiss her little head.
My piece of Heaven.

Well come on in and stay awhile,
got some ice tea, know your throats probably dry.
With all this weather , kind of been sitting around,
just feeding my face and putting on pounds.
So tonight I figured we'd better go light,
cook a little different and start eating ' right.'
So I've got me some Romaine lettuce washed in the pan,
got some  rice in the cooker and a can of light spam.
We going to pan roast the spam in a little sesame oil
and then serve it in this lettuce and rice  like a summer roll.
Course you can get as fancy as them chefs on TV,
but for now , well this is good enough for me.
Gonna join me?

So tired of the phrase...if I have to explain you would'nt understand....
I want to explain so you will understand,
what makes me this way, who I am.
Explain the hurt, the misery...
the demons I deal with...the me you don't see.
I want you to understand so you don't cross that invisible line...
the line you stomp on unknowingly, oh so many times.
I want to explain, damit, just for mankind sake...
when you come back from hell, don't think  nothing changed!

Riding in my truck with the windows rolled down,
finally got a chance to get out of town.
Got bills caught up and still have a paycheck,
got two days off before the job wants me back.
Summer sun feeling friendly on my face,
everyones showing off the pounds they've erased.
Girls are getting hotter and guys trying to be cool,
seems like everyones posing at the pools.
Me , I aint in to all that,
feeling comfortable in my pulled out shirt and old straw hat,
no need to **** in my stomach no more,
I'll take a second trip to the buffet table for sure.
In an old folding chair, near the water, where you'll find me,
pretty sure I'll be smiling  with a cup of coke and Jim Beam.
Friendly winds blowing my way,
half way through a two day stay.
Ahhhhh!

She's two hours in a three day no sleep,
tired, hungry, on dangerous streets.
Rubbed raw in places she doesn't bare,
would give half her paycheck for a chance to wash her hair.
   She keeps moving, just like the rest of her patrol,
finding comfort in thinking  that things will get better when she gets back home.
....... She's two hours in a three day no sleep,
tired, hungry, nothing left to eat.
She keeps moving, one more place to check,
trying hard to remember the direction to a place for homeless vets.
  Back in the zone , something went wrong,
she has a hard time remembering, getting along.
Things were suppose to have gotten so much better.....
once she got home.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6zB_oZAMldo&feature;=share     This a poem I had written that with the help of a good friend, I feel, has given a new look  and respect to those who have served. Take a knee.

I am not the one..who chambered the final round.
Not the Pathfinder, in the smoke who called the choppers
that lifted the dead and wounded off the ground.
I am not the Chaplain who holds the hand of a dying young man,
struggling hard with his belief.
Not the nurse with ****** hands,
eighteen hours with no relief.
I am not the young widow, now with two children ,
feeling left behind,
not the biker who stands guard in a patriotic flag line.
Not the Sargeant, who with respect, present the final flag,
not the Officer, with wet eyes, collecting the causality dog tags.......
           But I could be!

We've done the battle of the toys, cleaned up the crayolla mess,
Mawmaw won't see the artwork on the wall and that high heel won't be missed.
The dog has finally setttled down, the baby doll dress was a close fit,
it's time to run the bubble bath and try a night of rest.
Well half a bottle of supper bubbles and four soaked toilet rolls,
we finally get the  nightgown and powder on the nose.
There she is , so peaceful now,  a little angel
don't you think?
Now how did my car key keys end up in the bathroom sink?

Had the wrong hair to be cool,
two left feet back in High School,
fell in love in the lunch room
almost every day.
Remember spending those High School years
working so ******* the lines for the right girl,
never even made it past hello.
Saving money to buy the right style clothes,
platform shoes, remember those?
Seems like right when I got them, they went out of style.
It tickles me now , remembering those hip hugger jeans,
half the zipper than on a coin pouch and **** sure less room,
how I even had them fit on me!
Ya, there were the guys with all the right hair,
Daddy's money and all the hot girls,
most of them are single now and all burned out.
Course I still sit and wonder , every now and then,
how that kiss would have felt and to touch that hair in the wind,
it would have been something to always think about.
The old high school days are a training ground,
lets us learn what lifes going to be about.
Reckon I turned out just fine.

It has been some time since I've thought of you,
this Mothers Day I'll give credit where credit is due,
want to thank you for allowing me my first breath.
I know I took a lot away from you,
your dream, freedom and your youth,
you reminded me of that in your own way.
I was seventeen when I left home,
about as long as you've been gone,
no one to give this Mothers Day card to.
I wonder if you were still around,
how you would feel the way I turned out,
would you give credit to where credit is due.
No one to give this Mothers Day card to
but I'll still give credit to where credit is due.

Children ask the most funny things
and you better give the answer a think,
you're sure to hear it more then twice.
Said yes there were plenty of times
when being scared was on the line,
I can recall a time or two.
There was the time ,way back before you,
I was scared of my old, dark room
but I had to learn to sleep there by myself.
The time your Aunt Jo fell out of that tree,
I was so scared I got down on my knees,
asked the Good Lord to help her heal.
The time I was sent to do somethings
the good folks here did'nt know where I went,
till they all read about it and saw it on the news.
Course I was scared when I Asked your MawMaw
for her hand,
did'nt know if she would take a man
like your PawPaw was back then.
Remember how my hands all shook,
the day they brought your Mama in the room,
so tiny and full of lifes demands.
Yes, Little Tink, I've been scared a time or two.
I was beyond scared when you came along,
it had been all so long,
since we had a little tike like you in the house.
So I guess when I talk to to you of being scared,
well, PawPaw knows what he's talking about.

We cannot all be the finger on a tigger,
a silent team in the night,
unknown heros correcting a wrong
with a long awaited right.
We have our place.
We can be the strength behind the trigger,
the pull of full support,
the welcome mat for those unknown heros,
a team that comes back one man short.
No, not all can be the messenger,
not all can bring the sting
but all can band together and let Freedom finally ring!

You were more then just a friend,
my supporter to the end.
I can still see your smile
in the memories you've left behind.
Always the first to laugh,
saved your tears to the last,
a shoulder to lean on in the worse of times.
We bowled through this life  with smiles,
shoulder to shoulder, ground covering strides,
I am going to feel your absence for quite a while.
You were a friend,
right down to the end,
and I am not in need to ever say goodbeye,
just see ya, see ya on the otherside.

I had a vision. My people call it a 'Hectia'.

I wade into a moonlit river, the current slowly passes by,
it carries small , musical shimmers..
black and white.....
like an unfinished song....
snapshots of my life.
I am calm. Continue into the current,
slowly being surrounded by the shimmer of black and white.
I become one with their song...
I move with the current...
soon the river and I move on...
the picture is complete.
It is a vision, now it must be understood.

* Some people spend their entire life, wanting more, searching, demanding, feeling left out or not fit in.
Find your place, face the wind and feel its refreshness, not cursing its direction. In order to run with the fastest deer one must first know how to stand .

She aint the pretties, old two tick, floppy ear hound,
she is a keeper though, best friend I ever found.
Now her breath can curl your eyebrows,
her **** fertilized my yard,
and if a thief gives her a treat, well, she forgets what to guard.
Now she aint no bigger then an average possum
but let me tell you what,
that girl can be the biggest bed hog, bet you a two dollars to one.
I reckon though she's a keeper, I see it in her eyes,
caint really see her winking but they're saying" best friends, you and I."

The gentle wind whips the unsecured haylard along the abandoned flag pole,
overwatching the once busy parade field, now overgrown.
Here we stood, starched and shined, rows and rows and rows,
waiting for that final command, " Pass in review," oh so long ago.
The haylard, now rusting away,
used to be secured, twice, each and every day.
Like the the empty parade field, the soldiers there have come and gone,
and as if the haylard could sing a song, when will they all come home?

Yep, there are folks who would roll an eye or two,
guess they know I've missed  my time in the pews.
Know for sure  my dollar aint in the Deacons hat,
course  they don't know that Me and Him, well we go way back.
See I m not going to wait for that special day,
I can drop to my knees before Sunday.
Let me tell you a thing or two,
some times where I pray, well they aint got any pews.
Yes my dollar  aint sitting in  a passed around plate,
cause it's in the helmet to make sure them folks ate.
Now I don't get all bent about the things upon high,
but I just wanted to clear things up before you roll your eyes.
I may not get those fancy wings,
but we go way back, me and Him.

Bloodshot eyes and a case of laughter,
a Waffle House fix is what we are after.
Find a booth and all pile in,
waitress comes up and the mayhem begins.
Oh but she is a pro,
done this a time or two,
pretty soon here comes our food.
Scraping of the forks and clatter of the plates,
we look like it's been weeks since we ate.
We got scattered, chunked, covered and diced,
heartburn on a plate and don't even think twice.
Well no more thumping head and eyes cleared up a bit,
all we needed was a Waffle House fix!

I feel your gaze up on me,
we've spoken not a word,
you want my hands to ****** you,
I want to be where we are not heard.
Take you to a secluded spot,
remove your restricted bonds,
play my fingers along your body,
you, me, alone.
Feel that gentle tug, then more urgent ,
demanding my response,
bending, twisting, trying to hold on!
At last, though, there seems no chance,
cruel work demands my days,
so dry up ******* of mine,
put that fishing pole away!

Let's see here, you are as  sweet as a vidalia onion,
as pretty as that bass down in Waldrop Creek,( been meaning to catch
him for awhile, I bet he's at least eight to nine pounds or..)
sorry, where was I ? Yes you are so pretty.
You are smooth as Mr Sims backyard whiskey and I might
add just as hard to control.
Your hair smells like a thousand tea ivory , so silky to hold.
You make me get all funny ******* inside, kind of
like that time they all dared me to jump from Hickory Knoll
into the water, what was I thinking? Jumped anyways.
Aint saying I can tell you just like that Shakepearing fellow
just how I feel,
but I sure would have you if you will have me!

She's got her head hanging out  of my pickup truck,
tracing the clouds with her fingers, eyes lit up.
So many wonders she saw with those eyes,
she loved being with me, I loved those times.
Sit by the roadside, share a cold drink,
drop a line in the water, no matter if we caught anything.
Hair just a blowing, laughter in the wind......
that was a long time ago, that was then.
Head hanging out of my pickup truck,
tears in the wind, she thinks life is all screwd up.
Won't answer my question, hell won't even talk,
I miss the times we had together,  handle on it all.
I can tell she is looking, sideways to see,
like she is trying to pull answers from me.
I keep telling her this is just a bump in the road,
aint nobody perfect, Lord only knows.
Wind Swept tears, yes this time mine,
I watch her walk  away.............
she turns....... smiles....
Dad , I'll be just fine.

Unanswered questions, untold truth,
so typical when dealing with fools.
Not my truck that you got in to,
no chance of daylight between him and you.
Not my truck....
Not my truck with the windows smoked up,
Nope, .........not my truck.
Heard the wreck scene  had alot of blood....
heard they also found drugs...
nope not my truck....
No tears for the fool...
now who could that be?
....Him...you.... me?......
Nope, not my truck.

Yes Spring has come to the land,
Mother Nature has shed her coat,
time to get off the couch and do what matters most. Live and have fun!
So I am out catching up on the chores and second duty, granddaughter watch,
prune here, rake there, now where has that little tike gone?
Perhapes if I give these little hands something to occupy,
why the best thing is a little water, yes that will bring a smile.
So here is the battle ground as  the scene unfolds.
She has a little pail, I have the garden hose.
Her duty, quite simple,place some water on the plants,
end result however, water on PawPaw's pants!
So only to even the score, mind you no harm intended,
was to give the little tike a squirt and the battle would have ended.
Oh no, not today! This little tink has got some guts!
Why with every squirt I give that girl, I get a pail of slosh!
So of course, being the elder here and quite mature I say,
I give that girl her monies worth and let out a real good spray!
Soon the chores are all forgotten and the plants need water no more,
end of the day I can say she may have even tied the score!
Wow how much water do these pampers hold?!

Up here on this knoll,
bitter, hurt, cold.
I see them gathered , dressed in black,
offering words of pity, a hug,
a shoulder..........
ya right! A helmet full of those tears will not bring him back!
All it would have took was a "hold up Bro, put that beer down,"
or somebody calling off buying more rounds.
This live hard, ride hard, just a bunch of crap!
Down there now, shoveling life, how cool is that?
Could have shoved that scoot in the back of the bar,
threw his *** in a truck or a car.
No we had to rock, we had to roll....
now I am up here watching ,the last part of the party, down below.
  Ah the hell with all this, I need to go down and say my good beyes,
the one I am mad at has already died!

My doors are always  open, they swing both ways.
You can come in and be welcomed, leave just the same.
There is always some food in the frig,
the cabinet is usually  stocked.
You won't find anything fancy but if you're hungry, it will hit the spot.
There are two stacks of fire wood, in case you're here when it's cold.
One is for a quick fire, the other for all night long.
Upstairs is the extra bed, clean towels too , on shelves,
extra razor in the drawer, case you need to shave yourself.
Now the beer is in the bottom drawer of the frig out in the shop,
yes there is a bottle behind the toolbox, case you needing a shot.
I really only got a few rules , most folks have heard before.
Take what you need,  leave what aint yours.
Help with the chores if you get a chance,
clean up behind yourself.
When the time comes at you again, help those that caint help themselves. Welcome.

So a journey, or a walk about, kept me off these pages, time not my closest friend.
I struggled with my task at hand,  worried that I would fail in the end.
Mercy has a gentle touch, her whispers fall on true ears,
she helped me with my new load, she brought light to my fears.
Childish laughter now crys replace,
rattling pots and things out of place.
Being a Grandparent ,with a responsibilty to uphold,
without this joy and laughter,  the burden would be a load.
I am a different poet, some may fine,
not all punctuations or phrases in line.
Take time to put away your 'P' and 'Q's,
you may fine a line or two that reflects or amuse.
Yes, life is a journey, this I have said,
wrote a book about it, on every page.
So, I am back, check up on some friends,
read what they have and see where they have been.
If you are new here and stumble on me,
I hope you enjoy what I got to read.

We walked through these hills of youth, together you and me.
We chased us some pretty girls , had some tight times in between.
We answered the calling and left these muddy roads,
now Iam the one standing here, the one who made it back home.
You were always the faster one, the one with all the luck.
You could wear a white T shirt, come out clean ,even when mud got slung.
They say you where their rod of steal, never would try to bend,
you went the way  you wanted to, right down to the end.
So Brother, here I stand,  in the middle of this dirt road.
A shot of this Jim Beam will wash the hurt down my throat.
I hope you taste   your shot and give that crazy smile....
go in peace my Brother, see you on the other side. Love you man.

On the table , over there by the woven chair,
a box of prize possesions still line up there.
Left unattended, as if in a rush...
something is now missing...something he used to touch.

Let us flip the page of time, perhapes a few days back.
Count the items that were in the box, perhapes something
is a lack.
A ball of string, so carefully rolled, a coin with faded date.
A photo of a lovely girl and a flag of the United States.
A ring  and then a whisp of hair, human one would hope
and then a little soldier of tin , the hero of the show.
This tin soldier had seen the world, in the hands of the holder.
Seen him slip and fall, civilian and a soldier.
Listens to him as he thinks. Stands by as he cried.
Looked away when words were cursed, felt warm when he saw him smile.
The night was all as usual, the holder had been gone for a few days.
He entered ,sat down at the chair, all seemed normal one would say.
First came out the flag, quite moments would follow that.
Then the photo, ring and hair, normally the holder would sit back.
This time the holder knelt by the fire and the tin soldier strained to see,
the holder cried more then usual, the tin soldier wondered what could it be.
Then came a string of curses and a rush of air,
the tin soldier was caught up in the moment, quite unprepared.
As he layed to close to the flames, he felt his time draw near.....
the final moments as he left he could see the holder clear......

So now the room is empty. The table left untouched.
The holder left and never returned, he had lost all so much.
Tin soldiers they say are a dime a dozen, funny, kind of like us.
It's how we are lined up for the play, what we see or touch... the tin man melts away...we return to dust.

I did not see my parents in the bleachers, the night of the game.
How  lack luster was the joy when I finally got of the bench,
scored with the winning play.
I did not see the Marksman who had me in his sights.
I did not get to see the medic who never left my side.......
I did not see you.
I did not get to see the family who holds hands and prays,
then sits around a dinner table with smiles and laughter on their face.
I did not see you.
I did not see the dark clouds gathering in the West.
I did not see the warning in the inbound text.
Some say you can hear a freight train way before you see the light.
I say there are some things we will never see and still be alright.
I did not see you............

The got down on their knees and asked The Man for rain.
Crops were drying up,looked like a bad year for grain.
The bills started piling up , the note came they'd loose the land.
They  held on tight as a family should, never lost faith in The Man.
Rain never  came across the parched land even the fish had a worry or two,
so the good folks came up with a last dith plan cause that's what good folks do.
They brought a few cattle down from the hills,
along with a few fat pigs.
Cleaned up and painted the barn ,then built a huge , fancy BBQ rig.
Got word out to the neighbors and everyone in between,
told them there would be the biggest three day gathering, the biggest they'd ever seen.
Well still no rain but no fret, there was work going on,
these folks never lost faith in The Man, they were not going to loose this farm!
Come Friday noon there came a rumble, almost like a distant storm.
No it wasn't lightning or rain, it was three thousand bikers mabey more!
They all lined up for this three day event, music, foolishness and good food.
Paid thirty dollars a head  and signed a paper they'd obey the rules.
Music filled the farm air that night and fun was had for days.
Then like the rule book had printed out, they cleaned up and road away.
Now the farm was saved and bills were paid, worries put away,
as the last biker road away in the dust....the sky opened up with rain!

They called him up to the main office, told him Friday was his last day,
he came back down to the shop, started puting his things away.
Took down all them old posters, been there since 84.
Hard to believe this day had come, not excited anymore.
Got the call to the main office, I wondered now what again?!
called me on the carpet, said I'd be replacing him.
Stood there in amazement, just couldn't get it to sink in.
I'm replacing my teacher, boss,......my friend.
Times we used to talk about how many years left to this day.
Sleep in with no alarm clock, fish the day away.
Finally buy that Harley or mabey take that cruise.
Somehow it's not like the dream when you finally get the news.
I walked him to his truck and found no words to say,
seems  kind of odd, we used to talk all **** day.
So I shook his hand and gave him a hug,
sent him on his way. Walked back into the shop,
it now seems so strange.
Watched him from the open doors disappear in a cloud of dust.
One mans journey ended here today, one is about to start.

They have fought for God and Country,  far away from their home.
Now these heroes are behind on morgage loans.
Slept in a six foot shelter, lives on the line,
coming home to nothing, don't rest easy on my mind.
Wish I had enough acres to set them up right here.
Know they know how to build and get them trees cleared.
Kind of like a city where all of of those who gave,
can rebuild their lives and misery be saved.
I know that there are reasons and situations extremes,
the kind of equation that ruins hopes and dreams.
Just doesn't fit me right to see these women and men,
to come back from the gates of Hell and see their world closing in.

Awareness is the seed to a solution.

And the Grass People all rejoiced,
the widowed Grasshopper King had made a choice,
finally  fell in love with the Wood Crickett Queen.
Since she too was a widowed soul,
this union held for a future strong,
a union of the Grass People and the Wooded Wings.
A feast was held to spread the news,
creatures of all walk and wings  shared magical tunes,
the whole Valley seemed more alive with this spread of joy.
So now when ever you sit out on the porch swing,
relaxing, sipping on a cold drink...
listen and you may even hear....
the Wood Crickett saying...good night my dear.

Spent three days in jail, waiting for computer error to clear.
Automated customer service has me on hold, for what seems like years.
Debit card at the grocery store doesnt want to scan,
had to put back half of the groceries, not enough cash on hand.
Now they got these games,that let you bowl or fish,
all done in PJs, indoors.
Seems like no one wants to put on bug juice or bait a hook
around here any more.
Got Teenagers playing Combat games, up to level four.
Bet they would crap their pants if they had to go out of an aircraft door.
Drop their **** in middle of the night,
where bullets fly both ways
and if you  make it but your buddy dont,
then your left with the blame.
Laugh at me  and my simple ways, really dont give a ****,
wonder where we all will be when they start scanning our hands?
.........Your call is important to us , your approx wait time is......

There is a beautiful woman at the end of the bar,
the kind you see riding in a flashy car.
Not in here, in this smokey atmosphere.
She is playing with drink and a nervous smile,
look closer and you see she has been crying for awhile.
Angel flying too close to the ground.
Her wings have let her down.

chorus; But somewhere out there  someone is mad at her,
or she is ****** at the whole **** World....
nothing is as it seems,
bar room angels are few and far in
between.
Made for fools like me...nothing is as it seems.

She is the kind of woman that will get your guard down.
You will fall so easy, happy with what you have found..
nothing is as it seems, yes there are many fools like me.

Chorus:

So your  feet take you closer to her
but your heart stops you, best beware,
we have been her before,
never again we swore.
Cause somewhere out there someone is mad at her,
they fell for her charm now their feelings are hurt,
nothing is as it seems.
Plenty of fools like me.
Nothing is as it seems.
The fool would'nt be me.

A red feathered hawk glides across the semi frozen fairways
as  potential morsels scramble off the daily menu.
He  picks  at random , enjoys his meal, then starts his
search anew.
Such is Life.
A flat bottom ****** has found his home near the pond on  green number two.
Surrounded by trees on all sides for his **** building to choose.
Atlas he chose what wasn't wise and took a beam from someones porch.
So now he dangles at the end of a trap secured to a tree of course.
Such is Life
Wild geese come and gather round, here they found a place to stay.
Each day their wandering gets kind of wild when golf ***** sail their way.
Their droppings cause quite a mess on these wealthy mens shoes
but I laugh inside most of the time , this isn't the worse thing they could do.
Such is Life.
To me , to see nature entwine with population and still come to some course of harmony,
brings a peaceful moment to my life but mabey that's just me.
Such is Life

Standing on this porch I plead with the Wind.
Asking to blow you back to me again
but all I see is your fading tail lights.
The Wind is blowing through the hole in my heart,
echoes of cruel words said in the heat of the dark,
there is no way of this  coming to any good.
I'm standing here wishing that it would.
My pleads to  the Wind seemed unheard,
so I asked  the Rain a favor from her,
to wash this pain from my eyes,
but the Wind had already  tried.
I'm left  with memories of faded tail lights.
Standing on this porch on this rainy night,
the Wind blowing around everything in sight,
still no sign of you.
Still no sign of you.
Somewhere in a place unknown,
you're there and  you want to come home.
Ask the Wind what should you do.
There is someone still standing , waiting for you.

Got my hair slicked back, pack of red Dentyne.
Fresh brushed boots and ironed jeans.
Just washed the truck out at the lake,
drop a dime in the phone and check on my date........
last night as a civilian.
Got big plans , hope  for that long , long kiss,
bet her eyes open wide when she gets a look at this!
Been hauling hay  all summer long,
knew I was going in for the long haul.
Caint make a living on this dried up land,
got to go with Uncle Sam's plan.
So this box holds all my wishes and dreams........
we'll see....
Last night as a civilian.

Well they sat me down in a barber chair,
spun me around and I had no hair.
Troops out in the parking lot marking time,
singing this reality song to pass the time.
No Dentyne gum out here, no teenage queen,
fresh starched fatiques  and a M16.
Still got that little box in my wall locker,
still got her picture , even got that big , long kiss...
it was my last night  for alot of things.........

Well Mom came home covered in mud and all  in a fuss,
told Dad she's tired of  bouncing down all those ruts.
Now one thing is true around our house,
you better get busy to calm that woman down!
So Dad had a plan , Jack of All Trades,
he went about making a home made grade.
Took three railroad ties and then added a blade,
hooked it to the tractor and thought he had it made.
Well it seems ,Master of None, that blade just bounced
and nothing was geting done.
Here is where the plan really went wild,
he had all of us kids sit on it for a ride.
That road has a mind of its own
and when it saw this well, it was on!
Dad pulled the whole crew down the road just a bit
and that's when the road said this is it!
We snagged on a rock with that home made blade
and all of us kids went sailing, tail over head!
Wasn't a spot on us that wasn't black or blue,
covered in mud and a few lost shoes.
Needless  to say when Mom  saw all of us,
well that woman let out one hell of a fuss!
We all acted like we couldn't hear,
but even the neighbors got it loud and clear.
So that was the day the score came to a close,
zero for the Dad and one for that old dirt road!

The World looks different at  60 feet,
standing on the Huey skids, gritting my teeth.
Birds coming in fast and smoke rising slow,
drop into the tall grass not knowing which way to go.
Ears trying to hear and eyes not believing,
mortars and ******, men screaming and bleeding.
Yes the World looks different at 60 feet,
now hovering above me  where I'd rather be.
It's been  years now , the sights and sounds have gone to fade,
still look to the skies when I hear those blades.
Men faced walls of steel in that tall ****** grass,
at 60 feet my Brothers I raise this glass.
Gone but not forgotten.

There is a road that I travel on in the back of my mind. It is where I go to  ponder on the troubles in my life.
You won't find this road on any maps  around.
It is  far behind the these troubled eyes  and the twist of my mouth.
This road is no stranger to me ,
we have traveled many miles.
Each twist and turn, *** hole and cow paddy mines,
always together though somewhere in my mind.
When I finish up the journey down this stretch of road,
I can come back to the nowaday, relaxed without a load.
Somewhere in the back of mind, near and old dead tree,
there you will find  what I left behind...
that what was bothering me.