Cyrus was a nice enough man
Retired Army, he fought in Vietnam
They got bigger each time we got stoned
And the medals that hung on his wall
I be lieve that he purchased them all
His prized photograph framed by his bed
And at night we'd sit in his yard
and shoot his AK -47 at the stars
People in town, they all knew
That Cyrus had a couple loose screws
And jump out in full battle fatigues
While most folk, they didn't care
But senior citizens, he'd easily scare
At the top of his lungs he would scream
I spit on your American dream
And at night we'd sit in his yard
And shoot his AK -47 at the stars
man, I believe there's a God,
Now, American soldier is born,
Well, I believe that old Cyrus is gone.
they thought he was strange.
He'd sit outside and sing
with his whiskey and rifle by his side.
he would wave at the cars driving by.
Cyrus was a nice enough man,
rescued a whole platoon in Vietnam,
and the things he had seen
he was proud of the man he'd become.
And at night we'd sit in his yard
and shoot his AK -47 at the stars.
And I'd sing hallelujah, hallelujah.
He would say, man, I believe there's a God,