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    here in the trenches the fist of the beast for fear of an atmosphere poisoned deceased with a gas mask to keep me-from breathing my death it's american soil i hope for at best but the duty i serve can't begin to compare to my ancestors battles and wars throughout the years though the loneliness strikes like an enemy shell i pray for my home but still sit here in hell sail away to a place that's unknown taken away from my friends and my home to a place they call sacred a place i call hell i long for that corner i once knew so well go to the grind it's all that i have work on and on with nothing to show but a graying face in this dying place that's a lock in my solitude i think of a place on a faraway coast where friends are dear and there's reason to toast a cloudy dark images of a middle east land comes down and wrecks my hopeful land

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