I’ve always wanted to be in a war—
Is that the wrong thing to say?
I’ve always wanted to be in a war
At least one like I would play.

I’d be covered in glory,
Glamorous and gory,
Full of wonderful stories,
Beloved and entitled to V.A.

When Uncle Sam came calling
I’d put my ball in
And off to boot camp I’d sashay!
(And that’s okay now, I’d be quick to say).

Camaraderie! Brotherhood!
Oh, what a dream!
Three meals a day! Three types of cream!
One for my face and one for the pot
And then it’s me and the cream of the crop.
One by one, my fellow soldiers would drop
From exhaustion or drunkenness or too much fear
And me standing alone and the general near.

“Sir!” I reply, and smart as a whip,
With a salute, and a smile, and a manner that’s slick.
“Earnest!” he cries and he pumps my hand,
“I’ve been looking for you! We need such a man!”

He gives me my orders and off I dash
With two pistols, a rifle, and a knife safely stashed.
Somehow I end up behind enemy lines,
With a knife at my throat and my fingers entwined
With a beautiful spy, a double agent—both sides—
Who I’ve seduced and converted to mine.

She betrays me, it’s true.
“But I expected that of you! I had a plan along!”
With my battle cry said, and leaping from bed,
I shift the knife in a jiff. Then I hear the click
And the spitting pistol whiff
Of a gun going off at close range.

That’s how it always ends, again and again,
No matter what course I take.
I guess that’s the price that you pay for a war
When the war that you’re fighting is fake.