the airfield is calling
but not before i've fallen gracefully
against my will on and through the hills
of baumholder and dripped every bit
of sweat that wet the night before
we'll sit, love struck punched drunk bored
snoring in a tent while others open vents
not a dollar spent because there's
no where to spend it
yet there's a feeling of something more
a longing that didn't linger before
i hate my job