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 Some things Never Change
We were young, we were soldiers with our guns.
We answer our patriotic call, we all stood
courageously tall. We were soldiers fighting in
that jungle's deadly brawl.

We shed our blood, we shed our tears, we shed
our youth, we shed our lives.

Now, they say we were baby killers, village
burners, war mongers and dope addicts.  

I say; we were young, we were soldiers with our guns.
We fought, we bled, we cried, we prayed and we died.
What more can you ask of a solider with his gun?

Those were the days my friend and we thought they'd
never end, but end they did, and a granite
wall of memories is all that we have left. Yet, young  
soldiers continue to march with their guns. They bleed,
they cry, they pray and they die.
What more can you ask of a solider with his gun?

Ironically, some things never change!


Jackie R. Kays
06



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