This is the new blog...CONFESSION ZERO


The Surge

Now grit your teeth -
the grit won't grind.
Sandstorm's gonna blow

Don't hold your breath
but use your sleeve -
your brother's gotta go

A mountain crag
holds forty men,
but no one really knows

a Kabul street
could call us out
if one guy's backpack blows

the wind is hard
the sand wears down
the bottom of our soles

they're holding tribes
to melt 'em down -
that country's full of holes

and it could cost you
daughters, sons
and all their future goals

with all the soldiers
you bring in
to please a million fools
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