Pissing in the Dark

Back home in Tennessee life was pretty plain
I’d milk the cows and feed the chickens give the horse some hay
Ma cooked dinner on the stove with logs that I would split
No TV, no telephones no place you couldn’t spit

It’s true I miss my mother my farm my family
But the thing I remember most is where we’d go to pee
There was a shack out in the backyard with a half moon on the door
It was dark and it was hard to see what you were shooting for

My father was a gambler and he spent his last dime
On a fifth of gutrot whiskey to distract his worried mind
And when the police found him below the steeple of St. Marks
He had his pants around his ankles he was pissing in the dark

Now I’m standing here in Basrah in the middle of the night
A smoking gun in my left hand a grenade in my right
And I screamed at my commander as the bullets ‘round us barked
This ain’t a good war anymore we’re pissing in the dark