Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
In the fields of pointless military conflict Runs a man armed with needles and gauze No bombs of death or guns of destruction Just skills and tools to make men live long enough Constant triage Crawling from corpse to corpse His work is never ending Amidst the insanity the medic sees two truths Screaming dulls the pain When the screaming stops Move on, he’s gone