Shitting your pants is not fun.
 Shooting to kill or be killed not fun.
You weren't born to wear full metal diapers, kill or be killed, my brother, sister, or for your mother to scream where is my child.
She didn't raise you to die this way, hunter or hunted animal.
Where is my child, she screams, over and over again.
And papa, he is bereft, in tears, a grown man knowing nothing when his child is gone with M.I.A. stamped on your soul and theirs forever.
This is not fun.
But life, life simply put can be, family, friends, work, love, future, present, past.
 That is not shitting your pants.
 This is being alive.
 Let the generals die.
 And let their mothers cry.
 And watch war disappear.
 All the best, Jerry.