my interjection

Written by: Charlie Murder

cross it
my heart with my fist 
to a country spirit long forgotten
wrapped around the wrist
of some infidel
American scum
but the truth of the matter is 
they wanna go home
troops that come home
to shoes thrown at their face
its like a long spent nightmare
but real life is all they see
baby killer my bottom
taking orders has its flaws
they do what their told
not what they want
so dont blame ameri-troops
cuz it really isnt them