Marksmanship
Ran past the squad fire, love burning in dire Need for support: "Call in air abort!"
I picked up the phone, Hear your voice again, Said it gunna be short, "Wouldn't tire of the sport"
Swept past the cities and fumbled, On your lips I stumbled and Dropped the grenade on your foot, The big bang withstood Not a smudgeon of soot Why as a soldier wouldn't lend My boots to friends in the end
Dodge under cross fire Into speeding tire First flying with flack, Now lying in truck back
When I sleep, I see Love like the sea And your breezy smile "Fall in, rank and file!"
Swept past the cities and fumbled, On your lips I stumbled and Dropped the grenade on your foot, The big bang withstood Not a smudgeon of soot Why as a soldier wouldn't lend My boots to friends in the end
