The deadliest weapon in the world is a marine and his rifle. It is your killer instinct which must be harnessed if you expect to survive in combat. Your rifle is only a tool. It is a hard heart that kills. If your killer instincts are not clean and strong you will hesitate at the moment of truth. You will not kill. You will become dead marines. And then you will be in a world of shit. Because marines are not allowed to die without permission! Do you maggots understand?
Hook:
a brotherhood of such trust
whether dead or well
movements parallel
make foes dead so well
some fall and see god
other facin the devil
however for their country
gladly facin the shovel
puts himself to the hazard
for glory and fame
though most that are humane
wont remember his name
but he'll do in spite of every wonderous fact
attention, time for war, all guns intact
Verse 1:
FIRST! off the left foot, wit impeccable posture
onto the right armed wit a rife, the respectable monster
dressed in green wit a canteen and a knife for the throat
couple uh grenades a side arm ray when the rifle wont smoke
morphine for the war fiend before the moment of death
ready for battle, all unrattled in harmonious steps
undecorated soldiers, rollers all proud and committed
wild and unblemished...each soldier is violent, none timid
chins high wit thoughts of blood and a moment of glory
heard all the stories, every tale of, torment so gory
pens for letters, dog tags for those lost in the field
holes in the chest, flag covered rest, dreams of chalk is surreal
four fingers to the temple, no dimples, salute the commander
on the copter, wit a couple of doctors in humorous slander
hands shake, hoo-ahs, head nods, many kissin their cross
1 billion a month, rations included, that's what the missions'll cost
Hook:
a brotherhood of such trust
whether dead or well
movements parallel
make foes dead so well
some fall and see god
other facin the devil
however for their country
gladly facin the shovel
puts himself to the hazard
for glory and fame
though most that are humane
wont remember his name
but he'll do in spite of every wonderous fact
attention, time for war, all guns intact
Verse 2:
over the ocean, nostalgia fadin, greatly, nausea settin in
safeties off, guns cocked, soldiers fallin thru the wind
parachutes burst, glidin ensues, branches crack and leaves break
the platoon gathers, takes orders, then moves at low speed pace
thru the lagoon, wit much caution, eyes steady and fixed
at a moments notice, on hand signals, movement ready to shift
animals move and shake nerves, restrain is barely a thought
fingers on triggers, breathin is short, men stand on their hearts
hope is not an option, for adoption, now the trenches are near
confidence is shakin, some curse so anxious just to vent thru their fears
get ready is the command on hand, war's ten paces ahead
no goin back, trainin intact, the time is facin the dead
rifle butts are shoulder parallel, the die's been cast
feet touch the battlefield at last, no trees can hide your ass
so fast your comrades eye socket was replaced by the lead
the battle is on, a .327 hollow, just reshaped his young head
Hook:
a brotherhood of such trust
whether dead or well
movements parallel
make foes dead so well
some fall and see god
other facin the devil
however for their country
gladly facin the shovel
puts himself to the hazard
for glory and fame
though most that are humane
wont remember his name
but he'll do in spite of every wonderous fact
attention, time for war, all guns intact
Verse 3:
bones and sinew shatter, battered, flesh bursts from the force
grenades fly, some saves lives, enemies burst from the north
mid-day comes and goes, cold blood runs, in prints on the ground
supports teams, report to scenes, and replenish the rounds
bodies drop, dog tags are gathered, no face recognition
casualties heavy, on both sides, one gains space on position
prisoners taken, interrogated, descriptions beat wit a fist
foreign tongues, wit punctured lungs, just one speaks in their lisp
home base called, no plans falled, military chartered jets
the trip home, some miss bones, yet purple hearted vets
FIRST! off the left foot, wit impeccable posture
onto the right armed wit a rife, the respectable monster
dressed in green wit a canteen and a knife for the throat
couple uh grenades a side arm ray when the rifle wont smoke
regathered for one purpose, no foe, though someone will shoot
tears fall again, on home soil, twenty-one-gun-salute
Hook:
a brotherhood of such trust
whether dead or well
movements parallel
make foes dead so well
some fall and see god
other facin the devil
however for their country
gladly facin the shovel
puts himself to the hazard
for glory and fame
though most that are humane
wont remember his name
but he'll do in spite of every wonderous fact
attention, time for war, all guns intact
God has a hard-on for marines because we kill everything we see! He plays His games, we play ours! To show our appreciation for so much power, we keep heaven packed with fresh souls!