A humble story
Wanting of glory
A timeless tale
Now somewhat stale

A simple prince, barely nineteen
Far away from king & queen
Far west, on a quest
To wrest power, and free the “oppressed”

Women and children hurry to scurry
Conscience blurry, he begins to worry
“Why do they run when we ride into town?
Do they not know of our great renown?”

He was promised fame and honor
Though the minute he left, he was a goner
Blindly fighting for an (un)holy nation
Bringing salvation through a just invasion

Riding a steel steed, in great speed
He relayed news of a coming stampede
Crooked-eyed beasts from the east
Armed with tungsten teeth, looking to feast

He digs in deep, undeniably brave
Hoping, just hoping to not face his grave
Repelling an assault, a furious onslaught
Soon realizing their effort was for naught

Facing death, he becomes increasingly desperate
Flees his friends, searching for some sort of respite
Lurching backward, he saw a flash of light
Instantly calmed, all turned white

Returning home, solemnly greeted
His Ultimate purpose now completed
All eyes set on a horse-drawn hearse
Sent away with blackjack salute and verse:

“America, America
God shred his place for thee
And drown they should, they never could
Bring back our lost draftee!"