Still sick (years after the draft)

On the catapult you're still alive, the tar rests deeper inside
A gift, a wound that's wrapped and proud
the highlight of your tour
The end came quickly with war
we're left with billions of open sores
limbs gone, infections, addictions, injections
made babies born blind and weak
Melting in the sweat of agent orange every day
the hook is horse and threats, now being sentenced to a field
and short were the changes in air
like stacks that are rising through cases of stairs
The lights in the city reflect on the levy
phrased illness you know once again
And the guards were yelling our names
As we pushed their hands away
We're cowards, we're dead if we don't
Kill the ones maintaining the waste