The crags are never what I thought they would be The precipices seem too many, the drops too deep And the echo of heroes lurk millenniums below.
This is a walk of life I love to partake, a run that Brings me close to the jaws of wolves and lions, But I failed to think of the steep and high roads and how so few dare trek upon them and those that do are so brilliant they turn to stars, or eagles, or those animals with which I run—and then they are gone. It is a savage race of time and place, where we are comrades set apart only by the moment.
We sing cadences at night about the army, the navy And so many leave loves at home in favor for guns And bullets, and glory, glory, glory, glory— And their country. It breaks my heart that I have chosen to give my life to something That will suck it dry. Where have the ideals Of our people fled? I want to protect good People who do bad things, and feel no remorse, And in doing so I say goodbye to good people, who do good things, my brothers and sisters spread into four different branches of the very same beautiful, regal, broken country.
I am in love with a future fighter pilot (one of the last that our country will ever have), but I haven’t told him that yet, not even in letters. I saw him this weekend for less than 24 hours and it was the first time I’d seen him in months. It is the last time I will see him for three more. I saw his classmates march in white uniforms beneath the blazing sun, and I have never seen more beautiful people, regardless of whether that is romanticized. He held the American flag as they fixed bayonets in ranks, with a click as crisp as anyone’s first morning alive.
My best friend is in Colorado, and she is going to fly cargo planes. She is the most morally sound person I have ever met and I am certain a better version of Rome could be build upon her stable shoulders. It has been four months since I’ve seen her and I am not sure when I will see her again. I talk to her, I go to her for advice, but there is something tragic in walking by her old room and finding her gone. I will never live two minutes from her front door again, and I will see her only in passing.
And what of the moment that I become one of the first women in infantry? I will choke on dust and grit, and then I will be writing them from desert sands, singing glory, glory, glory, glory— an army cadence on marine lips. That’s a moment, oh that’s a moment.
Duty, honor, service—oh, it’ll break your heart, It’ll leave you dried up and alone but with the Greatest brotherhood you’ve ever known and yet, There is scorn for those who have sworn to die and protect by the sword of America.
I do not believe in our government—I believe in the foundation of our country, the morals upon which it was build, and it is for that which I will fight and die and end up very alone, very far from the people who I care for the most. There are beautiful people out there, and there are bad things that may happen in the future, the near future, the far future. Regardless,
it is the home of the brave and the land of the free, it does not matter if we are all a little lonely, so long as our blood beats with the flag so many have fallen to protect and here is something pure, something true.
The precipices seem too many, the drops too deep
And the echo of heroes lurk millenniums below.
This is a walk of life I love to partake, a run that
Brings me close to the jaws of wolves and lions,
But I failed to think of the steep and high roads
and how so few dare trek upon them and those that
do are so brilliant they turn to stars, or eagles, or
those animals with which I run—and then they are
gone. It is a savage race of time and place, where we
are comrades set apart only by the moment.
We sing cadences at night about the army, the navy
And so many leave loves at home in favor for guns
And bullets, and glory, glory, glory, glory—
And their country. It breaks my heart that
I have chosen to give my life to something
That will suck it dry. Where have the ideals
Of our people fled? I want to protect good
People who do bad things, and feel no remorse,
And in doing so I say goodbye to good people,
who do good things, my brothers and sisters
spread into four different branches of the very
same beautiful, regal, broken country.
I am in love with a future fighter pilot (one of the last that
our country will ever have), but I haven’t told
him that yet, not even in letters. I saw him this weekend
for less than 24 hours and it was the first time I’d seen him
in months. It is the last time I will see him for three more.
I saw his classmates march in white uniforms beneath the
blazing sun, and I have never seen more beautiful people,
regardless of whether that is romanticized. He held the
American flag as they fixed bayonets in ranks, with a
click as crisp as anyone’s first morning alive.
My best friend is in Colorado, and she is going to fly
cargo planes. She is the most morally sound person I have ever met
and I am certain a better version of Rome could be build upon
her stable shoulders. It has been four months since I’ve seen her
and I am not sure when I will see her again. I talk to her,
I go to her for advice, but there is something tragic in walking
by her old room and finding her gone. I will never live two minutes
from her front door again, and I will see her only in passing.
And what of the moment that I become one of the
first women in infantry? I will choke on dust and
grit, and then I will be writing them from desert
sands, singing glory, glory, glory, glory—
an army cadence on marine lips. That’s a moment,
oh that’s a moment.
Duty, honor, service—oh, it’ll break your heart,
It’ll leave you dried up and alone but with the
Greatest brotherhood you’ve ever known and yet,
There is scorn for those who have sworn to die and
protect by the sword of America.
I do not believe in our government—I believe in the
foundation of our country, the morals upon which
it was build, and it is for that which I will fight and die
and end up very alone, very far from the people who
I care for the most. There are beautiful people out there,
and there are bad things that may happen in the future,
the near future, the far future. Regardless,
it is the home of the brave and the land of the free,
it does not matter if we are all a little lonely, so long
as our blood beats with the flag so many have fallen
to protect and here is something pure, something true.