Holding his gun in hand tight, fearing sight of all the dead who lye upon him, the fires blowing in his ears, he stands now and stares, not bothered by bullets flying past his hair, sweats dry over his forehead, not tempted to scratch at his head bare, to his knees he drops, looking up at the sky, he doesn't care, I'll yell at all the little things we all say aren't fair, I'll only die here to protect the innocent, give me strength to get up and tear, push me around if you must now, but all this hate I shall not wear, all you men now have no soul, shooting at one another to save one who's not worth your death, what's he done for you but push and not pull, our people are ones I'll be proud for, we all must turn away now, he's taken all his pride in well, don't pray. fire in the hole
