I lost my legs in Afghanistan
Not like how my dad lost his heart in San Francisco
Little sharpened pencil flowers will grow inside my boots
I will be vigilant with every precise boom
in hopes of Afghan children jumping for recess bells
I left my heart and am forgotten
I will leave the noises and lights of war to the boozy night
Deployed to survive, just to return to the unknown
They mention me in an obscure way in the smell that burns my nose
I\'ll cut my hair and iron my Walmart shirt with precision
I lost my legs to the stars and strips, fifty times
It’s no coincidence I hear chanting dream voices, asking if I’ve lost my legs in Afghanistan