Well I got that call to Vietnam just like everyone else I knew,
so scared of the hand grenades threw them farther than any other troop,
I came home like an iron fist and Timmy tried to take my keys,
ripped open his front pocket: that was the last time he touched me.
Moved to an island out west up to Breaken Bridge,
met a mermaid on a glass boat and she promised me some kids,
bought a house in Oregon where you could touch both of the walls,
had a son named Benjamin and I was so scared of it all.
Well Benjamin walked in the front room where I was cutting up my hash,
looked into those deep blue eyes wondering why I've been so mad,
flushed the courter pound down the drain praying for the mercy to confess,
trying to rip out that boy from Rochester right out from my chest.
We're gonna walk right out into these heavenly fields,
run like there was no more time to steal,
my three boys in the grace of god I feel,
knowing one day you're gonna take me out of here.