Tramp those eastern jungles
With a target on a head
Shot through sight of a rifle
Look out, son you're dead
Have them write to my granpa
And tell 'em what i said
And have 'em play that holy riff
Beside my ever-loving bed
It's long time in this country's
Start to look a way to attack
Creep up in the shadows
And let you have it in the back
And have them write to your sister
So they try understand our ground
And have her go and get mine
If they're handin' medals all around
But it's not worth about writin' home about
So if you can, than take the train
It can spear you from the pain
And write this down through the other way
And keep it pointing forward
And if i try foolishley
Like now, try sometimes
I'll take it,
No matter
What if i could? But all i've got are twisted feelings
And it's not worth about writin' home about
Writer(s): Jim Pembroke, Paavo Maijanen
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