by Michael Clancy
Nothing that you will ever experience or see
Will ever compare to a hot L.Z.
Riding a skid and coming in fast
This fire fight might be the thing you see last.
The casings fly as the door gun chatters
The rotor blades pop as the tall grass scatters.
Your heart is pounding on an adrenaline high
Carried by orgasm beyond the sky.
Your mind is dazzled in mad confusion
Muzzle flashes dance in wild profusion.
You touch the ground the power starts to flow
As your weapon begins to rock-n-roll.
I’m gentle by choice and in theory abhor
In fact there’ll never be a sport quite like war.
For me the movies bring back the thrill
Alas for you they will never fulfill.
To Sweden sylvester chose to go
Now acts out deep longings as John Rambo