Circa 1980/1981?

Battle Fatigue

Battleground of words where silence means nothing

'Cept a few drinks and several dreams sleep brings.

Annoyance, irritation, at all the little habits

Where nothing is heard 'til the chance comes to grab it.

If words were bullets, we'd both be long gone,

Crouching in the shadowed lies waiting for one to go wrong.

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The fighting gets heated when the lights go dim.

The tempers cool on down when chances get slim,

And now the words are pointed, aimed at the heart.

It's surprising how good the aim is when so far apart.

So much is said but nothing is cast a second glance.

It's hard to believe this was one called romance.

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And here I lie suffering from battle fatigue.

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And if either side has hope for a sign of peace,

They have yet to show any sort of words of cease.

'Cause it's getting plain to see there ain't no treaty in sight,

And to gain advantage, one might have to resort to fight.

The war of words is coming to predicted standstill

And neither side is showing any strong will.

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'Cause there's cursing and there's screaming in the air,

But there's no sign of retreat coming from anywhere.

Even when distance great still means words are loud and clear.

There's no escape for battle fatigue around here.