Drop the D
It’s PTS and drop the D
Don’t put your labels on me
No clinical this or neuro that
We hide it well neath a boonie hat
Our tears are shed in lonely grief
Providing little or no relief
Our stories are kept all to ourselves
Better locked tight on memory shelves
Then one day our race fully run
We’ll join lost brothers neath a different sun
Having given our blood, our life, our all
Answering that final bugle call
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