well back in sixty nine
I didn't have a care
before they called my number
I chopped off all my hair
said goodbye to Mama
Dad and Uncle Dan
boarded an airplane
and headed off for Nam


well he called us to attention
when we stepped off that plane
Checked us off a list
as he called out our names
then he picked up his rifle
and raised it in the air
grabbed his crotch
with his other hand
as we all stood and stared
he said...


this is my rifle
this is my gun
one is for killing
the others for fun
so until this war is over
or until your time is done
this is your rifle
and this one is your gun


well thirty years have passed
since I stepped off that plane
the nightmares haven't ended
and neither has the pain
I've drank my share of liquor
and smoked my share of grass
but I can't unload the memories
or these few words from my past


this is my rifle
this is my gun
one is for killing
the others for fun
so until this war is over
or until my time is done
this is my rifle
and this one is my gun


well a dear friend of mine
finally called it quits
they found him one cold morning
laying in a ditch
a bullet through his brain
his rifle at his side
and one old rusted dog tag
dated nineteen sixty nine


when they turned his body over
they found his written note
it wasn't but a few lines
but the last he ever wrote
and when they laid him in his grave
on that cold December day
I took those words he'd written
and I began to play