I remember standing on the corner at midnight
Trying to kill the taliban
there was this dark veiled impostor in a little car downtown
then I watched her just go bang
through the long dirty night, I patrolled the street
bodies here,there, laying, just like gobs of meat,
here in Tikrit

in the tea shops, the muslims, and the choosers
used to watch them throw a glass
and then we'd yell get lost at curfew time
or we would kick their dirty ass.
unlike all the other conflicts, this looked like sure defeat
as we drive our armoured hummers down that mucky street
here in Tikrit

and sometimes even now, when I'm feeling sad and beat
I step on a mine, and lose my feet,
here in Tikrit
here in Tikrit