ON FRIDAY NIGHT'S I SIT AT MY COFFEE TABLE
WAITING FOR MY OLD BUDDY TO COME OVER
WITH A TWENTY FOUR CASE UNDER HIS ARMS
AND A BOX OF CUBAN CIGARS
NOW WE DRINK AND SMOKE AND TALK ABOUT
OUR WARS STORIES AND OUR BROTHERS
WHO DIE AT ARMS
AND STILL KEEPING TO THE PACK
CAUSE WE ARE THE LAST ONES
OUT OF FIVE TO HAVE SURVIVED
CAUSE BILLY DIED IN THE FOX HOLE
HE WAS JUST A BABY
AND JOHNNY DIED
FROM A CAR BOMB
HE WAS JUST TWENTY FIVE
AND WE CAN'T FORGET BOB
HIS PLANE GOT SHOT DOWN
HE DIDN'T SURVIVE
HE WAS ONLY THIRTY FIVE
NOW WE DRANK PASS ARE FILL
AS FRANKIE PULLED OUT A GUN
SAYING DO YOU REMEMBER THIS ONE?
YES I DO FRANKIE YOUR OLD ARMY GUN
NOW I KNOW A GAME WE CAN PLAY
IT 'S CALLED RUSSIAN ROULETTE
SURE FRANKIE
HOW COULD I FORGET
A SOLDIER OLD WAR GAME
AND IT'S NOT LIKE MY LIFE
IS GOING ANY WHERE
WELL DON'T FEEL BAD TONY
NEITHER IS MINE
I'M DYING OF CANCER
AND THE PAIN SOMETIMES
IS UNBEARABLE
NOW ENOUGH OF THIS
LET'S PLAY TONY
I'LL GO FIRST TONY
LOADING THE CHAMBER
AND SPINNING IT AROUND
GENTLY PULLING ON THE TRIGGER
{ AND CLICK}
NOW IT'S YOUR TURN TONY
SPINNING THE CHAMBER
GENTLY PULLING THE TRIGGER
{AND CLICK}
YOUR TURN FRANKIE
SPINNING THE CHAMBER
GENTLY PULLING ON THE TRIGGER
{ THAN BOOM }
BRUCE MARTONE
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/russian-roulette-10/
