Drawn to fight in a foreign land,
in a foreign land for money,
5 months,
17 days,
and three countries away,
and in a daze,
and in the dust and in the heat,
we speed away,
we speed away down a dusty track with no going back,
no going back to the place where we were,
with the village bombarded and ablaze,
and shelled to bits,
and with fearful eyes,
and people looking like zombies with tears in their eyes,
as we pass on by in a car filled with machine guns,
with some of us brave and some of us scared to bits,
we drive like hell,
and we are fighting a losing battle,
and we all have visions of horror in our eyes,
and we are caught up in a warzone,
5 months,
17 days,
and three countries away,
with the possibilities that we will not see our families again,
and we will cease to exist,
and money, money it matters much less than it did,
because what is money worth,
what is money worth when you are dead?
