On My Way Home
Brecht
I was getting out, without a doubt
This was my last patrol, wished i could shout
But then the reds were there
We were taking our share
Fifteen to thirty, but fair is fair
I was fighting wild, shooting blind
Nothing i could do, nowhere i could go
Someone yelled, "keep your head down low"
I heard men crying, knew they were dying
And for the first time, i realized
My sergeant lied!
On my way home in a body bag
A one-way ticket, but i couldn't brag
I was seeing green, seeing red
With an aching, throbbing, emptiness in my head
Trying to breathe, i fought for air
I was alive, but nobody cared
We left the planet
Then we had landed
Soon picked up by an army truck
Someone gave me a shovel and told me to dig
I said, "fuck off and die, capitalist pig!"