An Eastern Field

There's a man I know,
broken to tears,
been through it all,
in the cool, calm,
wicked wars,
in the cool, calm voice
of my T and V;
my voice of reason.

He's knee deep,
mud bathed and
screaming;
This is what he does
This is what he does

And then back home,
in the wars again,
fighting our friendly fire,
too ashamed and

This is what we do
This is what we do

too fearful, now flopped,
leaning over that
gawping viaduct.

This is what I do
This is what I do

His ship docked,
his heart pacing,
panic racing,
and in the fog:

This is what he does
This is what he does

In the rain and
waiting, looking
sideways for a
love, screaming:

This is what she does
This is what she does

He's a man I know,
speaking in tears,
been through it all,
but the cool, calm
wicked war,
in it's cool, calm voice
of my T and V;
my voice of reason,
Says:

This is what you are.
This is what you are.