Post Veterans Day Blues

Nobody to turn to
No one to tell
What do you do
When you come home from the war
To a small town in Kansas
With a four hundred dollar a day habit?
Your closest friend is in Chicago
But you can’t bring yourself to leave the farm,
You can’t even go anywhere at night,
To try to score,
But there’s nothing to score
Until you run into another one of you
Who has thirty tabs of Sandoz,
Not my bag, you say
But you wonder
It might help you kick
But you don’t know,
Your family, your friends
The whole town is so naïve
They can’t even be angry
Or show any pity
For something they don’t understand,
So you deal with the pain and the mental breakdown,
You deal with the town and your friends
Copping some dew to hold you over
Until the next war comes around.