.
Mark was just a kid, earning a wage
Plowing, tilling, sowing; burning through days
Mark knew of fun but had priorities monitored
A scholar in labor, taught mostly what’s honorable
Sweating bullets daily in this blazing sun of a gun
A back aching…Normal like thundering lungs
Not so much panting and wheezing as handling and heaving
The oldest of twelve, understanding work means his family’s feeding
Mark had no time for school while attending the working class
On a roll to last, deserving an earthly sash
At night, the lot would hurdle round the radio
Listening entertainment is suitably favorable
He remembered the warmth, that feeling that glowed
A connected bond through a group of siblings bestowed
*Suddenly, a fast paced accent begins*
“We interrupt this program within,
Volunteers fell short of the mark asked,
President Willson just passed a bill; THE DRAFT!”
Teenage Mark’s path quickly revolved three-sixty degrees
Sent to Germany in weeks with his family left sifting debris
Switched from GI Joe Figurines to blasting Jerry's** to smithereens
But karma means each high ends in a dive-down to misery
*A loud blast sends Private Jones back to reality*
His squadron is scattered with shrapnel as casualties
A flashing cannon projects through his brain
Private Jones sees his family, each synapse is a frame
He’s clutching a rosary, awaiting whats next
A bomb connects, two lips pucker…The kissing of death
**Jerry is a slur referring to the shape of german helmets**
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