We all line up in a four man stack.
We kick in the door with a splintering crack.
 
Run into the house, and what do we see?
It's another hadji with an RPG.
 
Shoot him in the chest or shoot him in the head.
It doesn't really matter as long as he's dead.
 
Run into the next room, fill it with lead.
Look where I shot and now a kid's dead.
 
Now i'm back home with my bottle of Jack.
And I never have to go back to Iraq.
 
Family and friends are glad to see me.
And everything's fine until I dream.
 
Then i'm right back in the four man stack.
And i'm kicking in the door with a splintering crack.
 
Run into the house and what do I see?
The dead little kid just looking at me.
 
I look into his eyes and I know he's right.
And I wake up sweating, can't sleep all night.
 
If you thought you knew me now you see.
Scratch the surface there's a whole new me.
 
I'm unforgiven and I hate myself.
And guilt fills up my emotional shelf.
 
It breaks my heart cause now I can see.
That i'm just a vet with PTSD

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