Bobby Easton

TOMMY

Tommy was a Veteran
Who spent two years in Nam,
And with tour done they sent him home,
His mind a ticking bomb.
Each night in dreams he’d wander back
To the horrors he had seen,
He’d wake up drenched in horrors
Sweat, upon his lips a scream.

As time went on he turned to drink
And then to drugs to kill,
The weight he felt upon his soul,
The dreams that plagued him still.
He asked for help from those who knew,
To cure his P.T.S.D.,
And respond they did with drugs and lies:
His curse was never freed.

He tried and tried to rid himself
Of mem’ries from the past,
The V.A.’s plan was short of sight
And so the die was cast.
They knew he meant to take his life,
But really couldn’t care,
And turned him out to meet his death,
One long last blank stare.

Why is this so I ask myself,
That we treat our Vets this way,
They gave of self in body and soul
To protect the U.S.A,
The system’s gone and let them down,
And all of us I fear,
Inadequate to say the least,
The jobs they hold so dear.
Those who fought for this here land
Should be treated as the best.
And maybe Tommy would still be here,
And not been laid to rest.

So change we must those V.A. thugs,
That do their job so well,
Yes Tommy’s gone to heaven,
But we must now help
Those Vets still left…
Here…
In hell!