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I was down in the sunset, hadn't eaten lunch yet |
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Up on my soapbox, in front of a coffee shop |
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Runnin' my mouth about the war in Iraq |
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When a G.I., right behind my back, said |
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Don't care who told you |
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Don't care what you're selling |
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But you don't know how bad it is |
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Oh no you don't know how bad it is |
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'Cuz I was down in the desert on my second tour |
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I didn't want to do the third |
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But I wanted to be sure |
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That I got my G.I. bill when I would return |
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So I grabbed the bottle |
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And let the rubber burn |
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We were waiting for orders |
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But new orders never came |
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Only to patrol that old refinery in shame |
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With no sense of purpose on an idle soldier's mind |
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I went left, right, left |
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And I stumbled on down the line |
