ramblings and things
I'm still your son mam but I'm not the same;
Since I've added a number to my name,
Had a razor used to shave my hair,
Sweated my blood on that drill square,
And I've slept in mud and I've eaten shit
And, unlike before, got muscles in my spit.
Got a rifle and a bayonet, been taught to kill,
And if I need to I know that I will.
Been called baby killer,
Sat on a train
Face dripping with spit.
I'm still your son mam
But I'm not the same:
I wear the khaki
Without any shame
Took an oath
To defend this land
And people like that
Just don't understand.
They live their life and their speech is free
Because of the work of people like me.
If I wake you up screaming in the night
Don't worry mam! It'll be all right.
What we've done, and what we've seen
At times come to taunt us in our dreams.
I'm still your son but I can never be the same
Since I added that number to my name.