The casualties of Afghanistan,
Thousands over twenty years,
All now worth nothing except
A politician's crocodile tears.
We go where we're told,
Do what they tell us to,
They tell us in service
Of Folk just like you.
Many of us are wounded
And some of us are dead
Some mentally damaged,
Invisible injuries instead.
When we get like that
They don't want us there,
A quick Medical Discharge
And into a Charity's care.
All this we expect because
We know a politico's worth.
They are hardly known for
Being the Salt Of The Earth.
When they stab us in the back
They really should take the blame
And, if they had any moral worth
All hang their heads in shame.
But, that was yesterday and
They don't need us anymore
Just keep us ticking over until
They start their next immoral War.
