I still recall the clear and cursed day,
That crushed the calmest man I ever knew
In Kandahar with cool and crafty crew
From cabin to cave to search and clear way
Set out from camp with charged spirits gay,
We reached our chaos, ceased and sidearms drew,
To cut about; collect our tales too
The men behind us quiet crept away
The sounds behind the shadows came and then
Saluted solemnly and stuck to wall
You snuck towards the door, shot it open
Still standing there, I saw my captain fall
That sound stunned me yet thoughts and fears run
I’m here for stories; not sequels, damn all

I dart around the dark and fearful room,
With pistol drawn like dancers in the night
Beyond the dusk some forth and likely fight
Ready to die and take my rubble’d tomb
Arched over you this drummer makes a plume,
Of dust and dirt, and folly in moonlight,
I damn and dare to take my friend tonight,
The voices behind walls begin to loom
Hands break the gate and burst before the door
My muzzle bucks as blast and powder shout
Their waves befell our blind and rushed the floor
Still I, between the bevy wait for rout
And if our bones shall bare we die as lore
We burnt too bright to suddenly snuff out.

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