Target Practice

Niggers, kikes and dagos, spics and micks –

We knew about the differences –

But everybody was a motherfucker

Who sucked cock

At least we were honest about it

In the neighbourhood

Anyway, one of the older guys,

Who listened to opera and had a lisp,

Went to Vietnam and lost an eye

He stayed at home a lot when he got back,

Playing records in his basement

We were curious about the war,

And almost old enough to fight,

So one night we went over for a beer

We all got drunk and then

He pulled a gun and there were

Dinks and gooks and slopes and slants

And Cyclops beat the shit out of

The three of us

One by one he begged our lips

To tell him he was queer,

Just one more time, he said,

The hammer clicking into place,

Because he needed target practice