Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Kevlar creaks in the carrier, sandstorm scouring corneas
Kosovo cold in my cortex, corpses corner my corneas
Iraq, Afghan, black flag flaps on a blown‑out roof
Briefing room brimstone, brass talk stats like it's just raw proof
Chalk dust maps on a plastic table, pins in the pins in the pins again
"Peacekeeping, hearts and minds"—quietly mining the village for intel then
Green flare, night sight, white light, kids in the line of the live rounds
Hands still hum from the Humvee turret, tinnitus, distant siren sounds
Back home, council estate, damp creeping up the plaster
They plaster my face on a banner, "hero," then leave me to chase this disaster
Forms on forms, "tick box trauma," triage at a call‑centre pace
Lady on the line reads scripts, never once looks up at my face
[Chorus]
Sectioned off
From the war and the ward and the waiting list
I bled for a flag in a foreign mist
Now I'm barred by a desk and a data‑drift
Sectioned off
From the street that I grew up on
Same block that I flew out from
Came back, and my own lot moved me on
(yeah)
Sectioned off
They clap when the cameras pan
Then cut every backed‑up plan
I served as a number, not a man
[Verse 2]
Gun oil ghosts in my coat, still sleep with my boots by the bed frame
Sixteen years in the regiment, six weeks till they shred my name
MoD letterhead, cold font, "thanks for your service, sincerely"
One cheap coin in a velvet box, whole life chopped into "merely"
Council flat promise, "priority band," yeah, band like elastic snap
Queue gets looped like a drill night lap, keep lapping that apps‑on‑apps
Caseworker says, "budget's battered, cuts came slashing our safety net"
Funny how funds find bombs, but a bunk for a vet is a shaky bet
Flashback flicks in the Tesco queue, tiles turn dust, aisles turn dunes
Forklift coughs like a distant boom, crisp bags crackle like loose platoons
"Calm yourself down, sir"—bouncer hands on my chest in the midnight rain
I learned restraint with a rifle raised, you learned it shouting at trains
[Chorus]
Sectioned off
From the war and the ward and the waiting list
I bled for a flag in a foreign mist
Now I'm barred by a desk and a data‑drift
Sectioned off
From the street that I grew up on
Same block that I flew out from
Came back, and my own lot moved me on
(huh)
Sectioned off
They cheer in the highlight reel
Then vanish when scars turn real
I was armour, now I'm just a bill
[Bridge]
I don't need poppies on lapels
I need walls that don't mould in the winter swell
I need one straight answer when the letters yell
"Your claim's declined, appeal as well"
I need one clear voice that can cut this static
Not a chatbot chat in a bland blue graphic
You trained me for chaos and cold‑blood habit
Then left me to rot in the after‑math addict
[Chorus]
Sectioned off
From the war and the ward and the waiting list
I bled for a flag in a foreign mist
Now I'm barred by a desk and a data‑drift
Sectioned off
From the street that I grew up on
Same block that I flew out from
Came back, and my own lot moved me on
(yeah)
Sectioned off
They salute when the cameras roll
Then sell off the shelter, sell off the soul
I gave you my body, now give me a home
Style
rapultra-fast technical rap at 175 bpmmale vocalsdouble‑time staccato over distorted industrial drums and grinding bass; verses stack dense internal rhymes in a tight pockethook drops into a halftime stomp with chanted gang vocals and metallic riserssparse eerie pads leave space for breathless deliveryoutro glitches and filters the vocal like a corrupted radio transmissionindustrialstaccato
Prompt
175BPM Ultra-Fast Technical Rap. Double-time staccato flow. Dark Industrial Hybrid. British Soldier: Kosovo, Iraq, Afghan. Betrayed by Govt & Council. High syllable density, aggressive, breathless.
Credits
Prompt by
Burnzy
BurnzyGeneratedApr 2, 2026
ModelAria v5.5
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