Dead soldiers, lined up in a row,
Short history, how many more to go?
Dead sailors, some of them in an alley
Not sailing anywhere anymore are they?
Dead airmen, and also dead marines.
What if we’d been where they’ve been?
Men and women, fathers and mothers
We are burying our sisters and brothers.

Hut, two, three, four,
What the hell are we fighting for?
Five, six, seven, eight!
I’ll go to heaven if it’s not too late!

Dead soldiers, not just bottles of beer;
More come back home dead every year.
Used people, we let them get thrown away
By listening to what rich crooks had to say
Their empty promises were all about glory
But remember, most of that word spells gory.
Expendables, in the Big Game of profit.
The proceeds, none of them ever got it.

Hut, two, three, four,
What the hell are we fighting for?
Five, six, seven, eight!
I’ll go to heaven if it’s not too late!

Salute and makes parades, of course
And pin the cheap medals on a corpse,
A kid under orders to invade and ****
Hoping leaders wake, but they never will.
The politicians get rich in office when
They sing  patriotic war songs again.
Someday we all can stop all the killing
If love, providence and all gods are willing.

Hut, two, three, four,
What the hell are we fighting for?
Five, six, seven, eight!
I’ll go to heaven if it’s not too late!

Hold obliquely this bunch of flowers with that smile,
to you my gift, "Exotic", your eyes acknowledge it,
you know how to do it,  so that the selfie we post
would turn many a head, invite likes, though reluctant
needs to be counted as bullets pumped by jealous minds.

Now  listen to this mandatory advice, once more
I shouldn't desist, voicing this in any case.
Don't be generous to me, expecting nothing in return
as I am  your lover, in fact I myself am an exploiter,
who is shameless. isn't it the order of the day?

I am aware, it's bad karma out and out,
yet can't help it, let's be open about it,
now tell me this, how much can I bribe you,
for a grand kiss next, today's last perhaps.

I tried to say my honest reflection,
But the words are still not bare.
I tried to change my peripheral,
But still in blinding sunshine,
And never has been discerned.
The feeling is unbearable
Though I never hollered.
But shared much weariness.

Everyday I see you more,
Let's say I need you more.
You brought smile once
Then now, I just can't.
Now I wished more,
More than the talk we talked,
More than your perception.
More than reality.

I wished to be older,
Then I'd be appropriate for you,
Then we'll be in same generation,
When that Sir is more than gone.