December 1, 1969 was the deadly birthday of young men’s souls.
Hovered around the television, they waited for their sentence.
As a country held its breath,
Lives changed. Lives were lost. Unlucky boys.

Uncle Sam pledged his sons to die.
But was it his pledge to give?
To fight for strangers; to burn in a flame they did not start
A weighty price to rest upon wings of chance

Congressman Pierre’s golden hand was covered in blood that day
And the other 622 days that passed time
As he turned each to a solider
366 plastic capsules held their hopes, fears… disappointments.

Canadian borders, medical injuries, and universities
Were the only ways of escape.
If you wanted control of destiny,
Run from the land of the free!

If you won, all was lost; if you lost, all was won.
Goodbyes were silently cried then and there
There and then dark days lurked in the horizon
As their war had yet begun.

And when would he again see his brother? In country?
Or perhaps deep in the burial grounds.
An American flag may wave next to stone
But this is not for an American cause.

Over one million men were subjected to this tragedy
They were heroes, protectors of freedom, and yet victims of fate
Broken mothers rang in apology for their boys;
A punishment for the blessed birth date.

A lottery. Gambles of life. Gambles of death.
September 14, April 24, December 30
Bingo.