What's the difficulty
Gunning down ambition
And my dreams?
I'm happy to lie slain
Upon the battlefields
Of Africa
Or South America
Or anywhere
Unglamorous

It is cruel
For me to say
That I was not appalled
By anything you did out there?
Your atrocities
Make history withdraw
In revulsion and shame
But now I weep
At my own callousness:
Friend, you were so vicious
And I was so unmoved.