no viet cong ever called me a cab

if it isnt this place or these people...the faces that dont match the names...i remember vinegar and the way she caressed my skin with that lint brush and limp wrist wore slacks to fit in with the neighbors...letting you smash yourself to pieces against my better judgement was a privilege i've pushed to deserve all my life...ive been waiting for something more...to look forward to daybreak with clay dust on my boots...