Warthog

a few good friends in a bad pinch
dug in real deep bleeding in the ditch
a call for help on the radio
a solemn prayer on my day to go

and when they made me they hung their heads
pushed back the guilt and shook the hands
loading the thirty with a great unease
shaking hands and weakened knees

amongst the clouds and screams I shake my rattle
and pound away til it hurts
til they call me home