[Verse 1] Some guy at work asked what I do When I ain't on the clock. Said there's a place he goes on Fridays, Said I ought to come and talk. Good guy. Probably means it. Hell, I might even have a beer. But making friends at forty-something Feels a little fucking weird. 'Cause I learned friendship in a barracks, Sleeping six feet from my crew. Knew who snored and who drank too much, Who'd fight, then fight for you. Never had to go find friendship. Hell, those bastards wouldn't leave. NOW I COME HOME TO A QUIET HOUSE AND WONDER WHAT THE FUCK I NEED. [Chorus] THERE AIN'T NO ITCH TO SCRATCH, AIN'T SOME HOLE I KNOW TO FILL. I just miss a crowded barracks, Miss the bullshit, miss the field. I miss bitching through the bad days With the same dumb fucking men. I MISS KNOWING WITHOUT ASKING WHO'D GO THROUGH HELL WITH ME AGAIN. Maybe I don't miss the Core. Maybe I miss what came with that— A LIFE WHERE I WAS NEVER ALONE AND BROTHERS ALWAYS HAD MY BACK. [Verse 2] We weren't always fucking heroes. Mostly dumb and twenty-one. Half our memories started badly With, "Hey, watch this shit. It'll be fun." I knew which bastard needed money. They knew when I wasn't right. Didn't have to say, "I'm struggling." THEY'D JUST FUCKING KNOW THAT NIGHT. We shared rooms and rides and paychecks, Bad decisions, worse tattoos. Shared the weight when someone couldn't. Shared the shit we made it through. And somewhere in all that misery, Without knowing while it passed, I FOUND THE CLOSEST FRIENDS I'D EVER HAVE AND THOUGHT THAT SHIT WOULD LAST. [Chorus] THERE AIN'T NO ITCH TO SCRATCH, AIN'T SOME HOLE I KNOW TO FILL. I just miss a crowded barracks, Miss the bullshit, miss the field. I miss bitching through the bad days With the same dumb fucking men. I MISS KNOWING WITHOUT ASKING WHO'D GO THROUGH HELL WITH ME AGAIN. Maybe I don't miss the Core. Maybe I miss what came with that— A LIFE WHERE I WAS NEVER ALONE AND BROTHERS ALWAYS HAD MY BACK. [Verse 3] Now they're scattered 'cross the country. Texas, Jersey, Carolina. Kids and jobs and second mortgages, Everybody living life now. Months become a couple years Before somebody calls me back— "You alive, motherfucker?" And just like that... We're back. Same dumb jokes from twenty years ago. Same voice I knew back then. For twenty minutes I'm twenty-one With my fucking boys again. Then somebody says, "I gotta go." And the house gets quiet again. That's the part nobody warned me of— HOW QUIET CIVILIAN LIFE GETS. [Bridge] Nobody tells you when you're leaving What you're really leaving there. Not the rifle. Not the uniform. Not the fucking regulation hair. You're leaving breakfast with your brothers. You're leaving bullshit after work. You're leaving twenty guys around you Who could tell when something hurt. We said we'd fight and die together. Back then, I fucking meant it too. SO HOW THE HELL DO YOU START WITH "WANNA GRAB A BEER?" AFTER FRIENDSHIP STARTED THERE FOR YOU? [Final Chorus] THERE AIN'T NO ITCH TO SCRATCH. THERE'S JUST SOMETHING THAT I MISS. A bunch of assholes down the hallway Giving each other endless shit. The field. The bars. The stupid nights. The shit we somehow made it through. I DON'T WANT TO BE TWENTY-ONE AGAIN— I JUST MISS HAVING MY FUCKING CREW. There's a good man down the street from me Who'd probably grab a beer. Maybe friendship starts much smaller Than the way it started there. HE DON'T HAVE TO BE MY BROTHER JUST TO SOMEDAY BE MY FRIEND. And those bastards scattered everywhere? THEY'RE STILL MY BROTHERS TO THE END. [Outro] Phone's been sitting on the table. One old number on the screen. Haven't talked in... shit. Maybe two years. [Phone Ringing] "Hello?" Hey, asshole. ... Yeah. I'm good. Just figured I'd call. ... SEMPER FYE, BROTHER
