From a school project for the Vietnam war are "blood in the sand" and "change"
The red clay, oh horrid blood in the sand,
The burrowed hole where a friend hast died in.
Blood spilt, countless lives lost in the heartland,
I look up and smell that red clay again.
That sad, sad song that haunts the daily air
comes from that clay in that Vietnam War.
The red clay, the blood in the sand I feel,
The blood in the sand is stuck in my hair.
The friend I have lost are too many more.
The red clay to me will always feel real.
Change is too often thrown upon our shoulders
Too quick to ready ourselves for what is next;
Love was thrown down when love was not from her,
And war is not ever forever fixed.
Nothing can ready for sudden changes;
Not war, nor the struggles we face daily,
Not even the people who brave it ouANCan ready themselves barely for changes.
Still nothing will give us much but vaigly
The sound of mind that has been with much doubt.