Much too cruel, much too fast
Much too quick to anger
- Thursday’s child, The Chameleons
- They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.
Either kill Larkin or shut the fuck up.
“Hey, Johnny Reb.”
HOW FUCKED ARE YOU NOW?
“War is brutish, inglorious, and a terrible waste. Combat leaves an indelible mark on those who are forced to endure it.”
With The Old Breed - Eugene B. Sledge