One day shy of February, 1968,
I’m in the town of Hue.
They’ll call it “Tet Offensive”
In the history books someday.

This is such a humid place,
Mud red and forrest green.
Not the place I wanna be,
But I’m a young Marine.

Tracers light the pre-dawn sky,
The Perfume River flows.
By evening it will be blood red,
Some guys won’t make it home.

I thought this was a holiday,
Charlie said he would stand down.
Now the lyin slant eyed prick
Is shootin up the town.

In Nam just shy of thirteen months,
I’m supposed to leave today.
How’d this fuckin happen?
I’m here and in harms way.

I’m one day shy of twenty-one,
Will I see twenty-two?
Or even see tomorrow,
I think they’ve broken thru.

I never heard the bullet,
Or saw the shooters face.
I never felt my heart explode,
Or knew I’d left this place.

Back home the hippies fill the streets,
The Generals all lied.
I’m one day shy no longer.
On Tet day one I died.

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