Rollin’ out the wire in the devil’s backyard Radios screamin’ and the livin’ is hard West got sand in his boots again Costilla’s fried like bacon in a cast-iron pan Chattman’s laughin’ but he’s dead inside Delgado’s shirt soaked, can’t hide that cry Banny’s lookin’ up like “Why’d we enlist?” And Alas just muttered, “We ain’t built for this” We’re bakin’ in a place God forgot to feel Static on comms, man, none of this real This sht ain’t real, man I swear it’s a dream Where the sun don’t quit and the shade don’t mean Grant’s passed out, Garfio’s peelin’ his face Garlotte’s yellin’, “Get me outta this place!” We’re sweatin’, we’re burnin’, no water to steal Stuck in 29 Palms… this sht ain’t real We’re commutators, not magicians, man Talkin’ to ghosts on a busted SINCGARS band Tryna keep the link while we lose our minds And the mirage lookin’ like a five-star dine Canteens are dry and the humor’s dark We’re gettin’ cooked like MREs in the park And just when we think we’ve seen it all Lieutenant Jackson says, “Gotta take that call…” He flew out on that blacked-out bird Left behind just sweat and curse words Told us, “Y’all got this, stay strong, hoo-rah” But his boots ain’t touched no desert since he said “rah” This sht ain’t real, got mirages for days Where lizards look judgmental and time don’t stay Grant’s talkin’ to a rock, swears it’s his friend Garfio nods like it all makes sense We’re fried, we’re cracked, too broke to heal Livin’ 29 Palms… this sht ain’t real So here’s to the brothers still sweatin’ in tan From Garlotte to Banny, all doin’ what we can This place’ll haunt you, but it’s part of the deal Oorah and Semper Fi… but this sh*t ain’t real
