Pain. Made to order.
Pain.
Sittin ’, sIappin ’, scatt ’n on my back, try ’n to reIax
Think ’n about the facts of the crack runnin ’ through the pack
Division in thought about the war to be fought
For tryin ’ to mend the ranks, stiII I get no thanks
They say they mean no disrespect, but dis ’ is in effect
I take to heart the part I pIay everyday