blood changes the game

blood changes the game.

at the first sound of a bullet

screaming over their heads,

young soldiers forget their own name.

blood changes the game.

forget the hero medals and the parade pomp;

the drill sergeant's foot stomp;

a young girls' thrown kiss,

hoping the bullets miss

body parts.

broken hearts

await any frontline news with anxious hands.

blood changes the game.

a grandfather in his army uniform,

pictured exhausted and torn,

holding a Springfield with an empty clip

disembarking from his crowded troop ship

underneath the Stars and Strips,

no longer dodging the artillery roar

of a distant war.

blood changes the game.

a dad, too, trading in his civilian shoes

for combat black.

there's no holding back

the urge to join in the fun.

so son, here is your gun,

but

blood changes the game.