Your old G.I.Joes
Are still under the stairs
They're all broke and used
But then again so are you
You could sell them
To friends of mine
You haven't even
Played with them
Since 1989
The front line's in the yard
There's a fortress made of cans
And the garden 'round the back
Has been declared a no-man's-land
You could say
All the casualties
Are casual
Like trips to the mall
Oh shit
I broke his thumb
Now he can't
Shoot a gun at all
You are who you are
Now be all that you can be
In a war without an end