I am approaching the battle field
And my gun went wrong
My index finger on the trigger
Restless for the orders to follow
Do not sing your love song
Please, no, not at this time
I am engrossed in my mechanical brain
Or else, I will poke my bayonet
Through your guts
This time
I want a companion
Who understands the times
And behaves.
At this critical time
Do not sing a love song,
And the scars those are healed
Do not make them bleed, again.
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