At an early age I was trained to ****
To enjoy the moment enjoy the thrill
When the 7.62 found the mark
And ripped apart another's life
Getting high on cordite smoke
Turning the moment into another joke
Dipping fingers in the blood
That from my victim on the ground had spread
To glorify in his death
Then deprive another of his breath
With another one through his lungs
Wow killing can be so much fun
Do I care that their families weep
No they were just a bunch of creeps
And I'll **** some more if I get the chance
Then walk away without a backwards glance

BUT

No it never was like that
Because you become enmired in the crap
You **** yourself and your stomach heaves
From the stench of blood and ****
Carried on the breeze
No thrills no fun no stupid jokes
Just ****** pants and sweat and trembling limbs
No glory in the site of blood
Turning sandy ground into puddled mud
The stink of gunsmoke in your throat
It could have been me
Not the other bloke