Napalm Rain
Deadly chemicals
parked in the cargo hold
of an American military plane
Destination: the jungles of Vietnam
Guerillas in the mist ...
communism with an Asian face
is on the uptick
It's the 60's, man
Free love don't like none of that
paid warring
Progressive rock-n-roll got a hippie soul,
but seeing flags burning make patriotic blood boil
Peaceful protesting
on college campuses all across the American soil,
a generation of Flower childs blossoming
While over in Vietnam,
war is cultivating a crop of pain
Weather forecast says: each mourn come dawn,
expect sixteen tons of napalm rain
Tell me who fights a war whose goal is not to win,
but to just stick to the failed mission
Every evening fuel up the planes,
to dust crop those fields of burning dreams
Orders are to ratchet up the suffering,
by laying down more napalm rain
As the next generation of Flower children start bursting,
old hearts wonder:
Will those new killing fields ever grow hope again?
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