The Killing Fields

Afghanistan: he'd seen some things had made 
his comrades puke: 
He'd served before 
In the Bosnian war 
Survival just a fluke. 
Now he's back on British soil 
A crumbling shell of a man 
Each night awake 
He can't escape 
His dreams of Afghanistan. 

In school they'd delivered careers advice, 
The recruiting officer came 
With tales of adventure 
And friendship and life 
And lies of becoming a man. 
He thought through once, He gave his name, 
Read papers through, 
asked questions twice: 
The man in the khaki clothes seemed nice 
Now he's getting all the blame. 
Since he want to war, things aren't the same 
As he dreams of Afghanistan. 
The things he's seen, the blood he's spilled, 
For what, for whom his comrades killed? 
Explosions go off in his head. 
He envies those he left, the dead, 
"It should have been me," he sighed and said 
To the man down the lane 
With a hood on his head 
And bags of mercy in his hand 
Shipped in undercover from that faraway land, 
The only way to cover his pain 
As he dreams of Afghanistan. 

And now he's ascending on the lift 
Of his council block's forty floors 
Heads right to the top without any stop 
With nothing but thoughts of the wars. 
Daylight cuts his irises blue as he opens the 
door to the roof. 
Asking himself, "Where would I be now, 
Had I made the right choice as a youth?" 
And he's pouring the powder from out of the packet 
From the earth of Afghanistan, 
And he's mixing the fruit of the farmer's blood, 
Forgetting that he's a man. 
And he rolls up the sleeve of his battered old 
jacket 
He's wearing his old civvies now 
He'll never be seen in that military green, 
Disillusionment to him now, 
As he dreams of Afghanistan. 

So the needle sinks in and the poppy sap flows 
From the fields of Afghanistan 
As the rush hits his head 
Thinks "I'm better off dead" 
As he dreams of Afghanistan. 

As he opens his eyes, 
Darkness seeps from both sides 
And his world is closing in 
As the warm breeze blows 
His subconscious knows 
This battle he never will win. 
And he's floating free now 
Over green fields that grow 
Swelling capsules of opium pods 
And the soldier he was 
Gives his soul to the gods 
As he dies in Afghanistan.