It is time for a name to be drawn.
You write your true name, not "Mickey" or "George",
And pray you don't hear it at dawn.
The chair, the lap pads, the tubes and the needles,
Are all waiting for someone to sit.
Your nerves are on edge, your stomachs in knots,
Then you hear it and you think "Oh, s**t!"
They have to learn and they have to do,
But why is it you that they must practice on?
The chair's out in the heat, the needle's too sharp,
And that tube is just way too long.
You're an American Soldier, a defender of faith,
Definitely the man of the hour,
But as you sit there, it's a whole different deal,
You're a knight without your shining armor.
These men whom you trusted just seconds ago,
Now look like stand-ins for "Darth Vader"
And the other you've met, the ones you called "friends",
Simply smile and say, "See ya later!"
Fifteen years of blood, sweat, and tears,
And now just look at where you are at.
It's at this moment you can't help but think,
"Rank, yeah, O.K., what is that?"
It's proof that no matter how much you do
Or how long you may have been there,
Regardless the stars, regardless the stripes,
You too must do time in "The Chair."