I Used to Preach; It Keeps Your Eyes from Burning; I Was Wounded

I used to preach, preach—goddamn, I could preach, preach my ass off. Get 'em stirred up and pass the hat right away. I quit preaching not too long ago 'cause I got tired of showing them sisters the holy ghost. Go 'head, ghost, make it holy. No, this has nothing to do with the show, just wanna remember to take it with me tonight. I wish this was mine. It's not mine. I was wounded overseas, this is mine. See, you slip it right on the head, it keep your eyes from burning. It sure burns, hahaha. You know, you might as well have some fun out of life. Tonight, we have soldiers in Vietnam. I was wounded in World War II, in Newark, New Jersey—shot coming out the drugstore with an arm full of stuff. Then I went into the service. I'll never forget one battle I was in—I backed up so far, I bumped into a general. He said, "Why are you running?" I said, "I'm running because I cannot fly." How they get to be generals asking you old dumb stuff like that? "Why are you kneeling behind that concrete wall?" "'Cause those are hand grenades, not donuts." Ah, war is hell—examination is worse than the fighting. It's embarrassing to stand before a bunch of guys buck naked, and if you're not built well, you'll blush. I'd turn beige. We were lined up in a long straight line, 50, 60 fellas, far as you could see, naked men with their clothes on the floor...