In My Hour Of Need.

In my hour of need,
As I lie down in the field and bleed,
With a weeping wound upon my chest
Like a casual victim in a bar-room slug-fest
Fought and won and now spent
No more anger left to vent,
A crack I open my remaining eye
To stare into the clear blue sky
Praying silently for swift delivery:
"Sunlight don't do no good to a dying man like me."
For victory doesn't taste so sweet
When they're waiting to bury you under six feet.
My tongue too parched to taste
The fruits of my labour;
Gone to waste
Not mine, but theirs to savour.
Oh, they'll wrap me in the country's flag
Of my valour and deeds they'll brag
Make a movie of me and fill their banks
Send me royalties in prayers of happy thanks...
And when I'm rotted to the bone
They'll walk past my tombstone
And all I'll ever get are false tears and vacant stares,
Because hey, who cares?

In my hour of need,
A winged angel on a Heavenly steed,
Came and took me gently by the hand,
Away from this cruel, cursed land.

Cpl Siew (pre-ROD)