(Verse 1) Well, I signed on the dotted line, nineteen years old and lean Traded my faded denim for camouflage green They promised me an education, said I'd see the world so wide Now I’m standing in the desert with nowhere left to hide Yeah, I’m standing in the desert, watching my buddy bleed All to protect some politician’s corporate greed. (Chorus) It’s the modern day blues, painted red, white, and blue We do the dirty work they're too afraid to do It ain't about the flag, brother, it ain't about the score It’s just poor boys fighting a rich man’s war. (Verse 2) The Army grunts are humping rucksacks, kicking down the doors While the senators in Washington are buying up third floors The Marine Corps devils are eating dirt and taking fire While the stock market keeps climbing higher and higher Yeah, the market keeps on climbing, like a rocket to the moon But down here in the sandbox, we're dancing to a different tune. (Verse 3) The Navy boys are floating on a billion-dollar steel grey town Launching jets off the deck while the sun goes down The Air Force jockeys are way up high, dropping death from above They don't see the eyes of the people they got no love for They don't see the eyes, man, they just see a grid on a screen We’re just grease in the gears of the military machine. (Chorus) It’s the modern day blues, painted red, white, and blue We do the dirty work they're too afraid to do It ain't about the flag, brother, it ain't about the score It’s just poor boys fighting a rich man’s war. (Bridge) Now, sometimes they send us in when the hurricane hits land Passing out water bottles with a helping hand They call that humanitarian, say that’s our great reward Seeing a kid smile for a second before we pull the sword But don't get it twisted, that feeling don't last long Because war is hell, and hell is where we belong. (Guitar Solo - Screaming, anguished slide guitar solo that mimics the sound of sirens and bombs dropping) (Verse 4) So when that liberty call comes ringing, and we hit a foreign port We’re looking for oblivion of the heavy drinking sort We hit the neon bars hard, trying to drown what we saw Ignoring every order and every military law Yeah, we party like tomorrow ain't never gonna come Trying to make the memories just a little bit numb. (Outro) Yeah, pour me another whiskey, bartender, make it a double shot I gotta forget about the friends that I forgot The medal on my chest, it don't mean a damn thing When you hear the rich man’s cash register ring. It just rings and rings... While the poor boys sing the blues. (Fade out on a low, sustaining bass note and a final scratchy guitar lick)

Rich Man’s War