How do you measure the distance
Between me and the hole in the dirt
I had to dig to stay alive at night
In Aghanistan, in order to return unhurt
To "the world" not even changed a bit,
With people scurrying for fun and money,
Too distracted and busy to give a shit
About me or my foxhole... It's funny
In a way because those people are who
I am fighting for, or so I've been told
By those above me, lest I misconstrue
The reasons for our bloodshed and bold
Actions in the face of death, yet it's
The distance, the mental chasm which
Lies between the war and the mall, that
I cannot ever jump across -- life's a bitch.
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