and how many times will you tell me that br once, in your pocket poetry br once, you read it when you were so drunk br unable to take the right step br and say the right syllabication of your words br tipsy, you fall all alone by yourself br while i watch you br telling myself that this is another kind of life br wasted br br then you are telling me again this time br when we are together going to the fields br of our own wars br as we hold our guns and read the maps br and trail the ways of the forest br br life is what you make it br there seems to be an error somewhere br br life is what we make it brother br we work as a team, a community, a nation, a country br a wall stronger than just anyone of us br br we shall make it br we shall keep this struggle br as a nation, not just anyone of us, tipsy and drunk and hopeless br and falling alone br with the mere whisper of the wind, the whimper of the common enemybr br RIC S.