I just want to Write a Letter Home
The paper is sheer, thin, and flimsy but that's what they give us before we write, there’s a class on what to write-strange but it takes up time
The Jarhead walks back and forth crisp as a cracker, I’m waiting for his ass to
Squeal like a lost sheep-but it doesn’t
I want to write a letter home to Mom, Pat and that pain in the ass Rose
But, there are rules
Lots of rules, I’m somewhere in the Pacific-but I can’t say that, I don’t know where we are going, but I can’t say that, I’m a Marine but I can’t say that, I’m on a ship, boat, raft or canoe but I can’t say that. I follow the rules, but I can’t say that.
I just want to write a letter home, to say hello to Pat.
Today I saw my first dead man, the Jap’s dived on the ship, it was so quick, his body flew down the steps without the legs-I didn’t even look at him-he wasn’t human
Keep moving-don’t look back that is another rule.
The paper is sheer, thin and flimsy but that's what they give us
It keeps getting warmer the air is still, I’m sweating on the paper but that will dry out
We can address the envelope, but don’t seal it-it has to be reviewed by secret people I have never seen-no one has
Right now there are 3 to 5,000 Marines on deck, too hot below.
I want to write a letter home, but what can I say; “How are you Mom”, or “How’s the Weather”, or “Is Pat and Rose still driving you crazy, they drove me crazy” or “ When I come home I want a slice of Apple Pie” and so for years it went on like that, the letter's always ended with; “ Well, I’m going to sign off now”. Jack.
In all those years, so many letters-my Father never once wrote to his Father
As his son I had to ask; “Why didn’t you ever write to your Father”, then came a silence that lives with me today. My Father replied; “Jack, my Dad used to beat me.
Oh God, the paper is sheer, thin and flimsy but that’s what they gave us.
The paper is sheer, thin and flimsy but that’s what they gave us
We’d take the trolley to Penn Station, 17, 18, or 19 year olds and somewhere in that mix was a 16-year old-he lied but we kept our mouth shut-soon I’d see them on the beaches, in the jungle or just floating in the surf with the tide-but I can’t write that
There are rules for these kids, dark twisted rules; I just want to write a letter home
Let my Mom know I passed another day, maybe talk about the “Pirates” or the arrival of
Spring, it’s always summer here, the jungle is overwhelming, the sweat, endless sweat from endless skin pours-sleep in mud-eat in mud and die in mud.
Hell, I can’t write that-the secret people would go crazy
I just want to write a letter home, see how things are in the Hollow, what type of cars people are driving now
In this life you dream of a girlfriend, a fresh shirt then it slowly turns dark-you don’t care
Your best friends lie in an island you can’t speak of-and they don’t speak.
I just want to write a letter home. JPN