Ice upon the windshield, and on the highway, too-
Pucker factor high tonight, he’s trying to make it through.
Out from home for thirteen days, feels just like a year-
Wants to hold the wife to night, and just to have her near.
Fighting sleep and icy roads, trying to make it home-
The trucker’s life’s no party, far too much time alone...
Black ice on a real bad curve, hear that North wind moan-
Through the rail and down the cliff, he’s going, going, gone.
Young man in a foxhole, somewhere in Vietnam-
Asks himself, “Do Mom and Dad wonder where I am”?
In the monsoon rain at night, five thousand miles from home-
In a lonely Listening Post...he’s feeling all alone.
He thinks, “I want a cigarette, but we can’t smoke at night-
But on a rainy night like this...no one will see the light”.
Cups his hands and lights a smoke, and heaves a happy sigh-
A sniper takes the trigger’s slack, and one more soldier dies.
They never learn to mind the rules, they do it on their own-
Fools refuse to take advice, and therein they go wrong..
Dumb mistakes and careless risks compose a sad old song-
Pay the fiddler, have your dance, you’re going, going, gone.
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