In Memory - First Kill

I see his face in the back of my mind.
It's the only one there, and not hard to find.
I see his cold, dead eyes starin' out at me;
Burnin' in my memory, remindin' me.

I shot a man, and I killed him stone cold dead.
I put two bullets in the front of his head.

I piled his body up in a nice neat stack;
Then called the number in to the big brass shack.
They marked that number on their big black tote board;
And told me to kill more of the yellow horde.
"We need more numbers, like these, to raise the score;
To show the folks back home, we're winnin' this war!"

I feel the cold hand of Death on my shoulder.
I feel myself gettin' bolder and bolder.
He's like my new father, he's comfortin' me.
He's tellin' me to be what I have to be.
He's tellin' me to be a bad ass Marine,
And to be the best goddamn killin' machine.

Death talked to his son, like every father should.
His voice whispered, was calm and strong as he stood,
Lookin' into his eyes, deep down inside him,
Holdin' him in place, grippin' his tremblin' limbs.

"Listen, son, if you wanna be just like me,
Then you gotta hide low in those jungle trees.
Wait for Charlie to come bebopper' along;
Then, drop his sorry ass and show him who's strong.
Use your rifle, son; use your jungle knife.
But just remember to take life after life.
You've got a lot to kill to catch up to me.
So, get busy, son; get on our killin' spree."