To Know Evil

When G.I. Joe comes marching home
With half of a face
Ant not a leg to stand on
Will trilling trumpets sear the skies?
Will teargas nightmares burn his eyes?
As he dies a gentle death each night
Will caresses turn into firefights?
And will the billowing bodies on the shore
Recognize the men they've sent to war?
Death once removed
Becomes just a word
A thrill to behold
An escapе from dull pain
Of being alive
But living a lie
Of bеing defiled
Of being denied
Of being devoid
Of reason and will
An overkill pill
To cure all your ills
When G.I. Joe comes limping home
Will mortar fire shake his living room?
Will he crawl on his belly through the blood stained sheets?
Will the weight of tanks crack suburban streets?
Will the rose garden growing in his brain
Become a pinless hand grenade?
Will the man on the street
And the passer-by
Buy a drink for the men they sent to die?
A diversion on a thrill
For those terminally ill
A quest and a cause
For the vacant and bored
A real life trouble
For those who have none
A silent weapon
A fast talking gun
It's easy to kill
By just sitting still
When G.I. Joe comes screaming home
Cradle rocked
Shell shocked
Suicidal, mad-eyed
Will the milling spectators wish him well?
This man who picked poppies from the mouth of hell
Will the airshows lift him out of his despair?
Will the victory marches mend his mangled legs?
Will real ale wash away the mustard gas?
Will he crawl from his foxhole
Just to find it's a grave?
Cos so much must die inside while pulling the trigger