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Death Of The Ball Turret Gunner He held on to his life next to his mother's womb (time to go, time to fly) Eighteen years old and loosed from a sheltered life, (time to run, time to fight) New womb of plexiglass, only now birth meant death, (time to fly, time to die) Looks out and all he sees are nightmare cacophonies, He begs forgiveness to a god who seems so far away back home, Deep in the belly of metal monstrosities, Black flack explodes outside his window and he screams for someone.
He lets loose hell from his hands, sees his face in bodies falling.
He screams and pounds against the glass but there's only one way out.
(When he died, they washed him out of the turret with a hose.)
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