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The virile Knight gives evil eye to all 
And champion to all who missed the call, 
A long forgotten conflict ripped our soul 
The virile Knight defends the final toll. 

(In a hole 
Where the bones 
Of the bold 
Smoulder cold) 

A wisp of whimsy light ignites the breeze, 
As fox-fire floats a grove of willow trees; 
A devious diversion brief with peace 
But conflicts of convergence will not cease. 

(It has been said: 
War is only over 
For the dead and the dead 
And the dead, dead, soldier) 

Give glory to the glory of the dead, 
In sacrificial life are heroes bred; 
They find their strength above the maudlin din - 
Aware of who they are by where they've been. 

(Life can be confusing
For a Vet who lives it boozing
'Cause booze will lose its kick 
And leave a troubled Vet quite sick) 

Your faith in friends and God has disappeared 
Still buried deep in jungle heat as feared; 
And dreams of truth once dreamed in youth were vain - 
Too vain a brain can make a brain insane. 

(All young and strong 
In Vietnam -
Till dead from the blood 
that they bled
From worms deep inside 
they were fed) 

Your wife and children gone so long ago, 
Her claim to fame became but shame's dull glow; 
Her main cognitions slipped and stripped all gears - 
Aladdin on a carpet-ride in tears. 

(Full blown crazy 
Was your Daisy 
Quite the shady 
Little lady) 

Now sunshine splitter's split the light of dawn 
To blind and euthanize the spermless pawn; 
Our Knight complains about the awful strain, 
The pawn is gone too long and dies inane.

(We pay each day 
For check-mate fears 
And turn away
From all the tears
That fall like rain
From children's pain) 

The dead now share your bed inside your room 
And you assume their AWOL from the tomb - 
But truth confides they hide inside your bones 
And soon you hear their rising manic tones. 

(They died as we cried 
And they think that we lied 
That is why they now ride 
On our bones deep inside: 
"Alive! Alive! Alive! 
Our souls in you do thrive") 

The ghosts of comrades past do crowd my bed; 
I retch from stench of fetid flesh long dead. 
But dead now in my bed are heroes all:
Dead heroes in my bed who met the call. 

(The casualties of war 
When war be but a lie 
Will wander evermore 
For they will never die.)
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