another rainy morning mingling at the market bartering for food for another day rifle shots ring out behind the crumbling buildings executions have begun sprawled in the square are today's broken bodies lots to pick clean if you're first and quick rift through their pockets, peel off their clothes to wear or sell when you wash out the blood run my little brother run to the chicken farm opportunity is calling you might even find a watch we're going down to the chicken farm napalm rains no more but the war goes on little brother died playing at the dump today he found a new toy and held it up proud then it blew him to bits how many more children will be killed or die at birth deformed by agent orange in our food chain forever more we're going down to the chicken farm this time we'll buy our way out i've got a plan; you wait and see i smuggled you this map in the gash i sliced in my thigh i hope i'm there to join you, love we're blown to bits one by one in this camp we crawl shaking through the fields at gunpoint all day to defuse leftover landmines-by hand we shiver on the deck and stiffen for the worst if the pirates come around we might as well be dead we'll be thrown in the sea or butchered if we're women all in the name of gold one foot in a land we can barely understand can't speak the tongue of yankee hospitality our kids at school get beat up to the tune of "boat people, go home" sliced with a machete from the breast of our homeland our new world tries to spit us out but it sure beats the chicken farm