2 hours on a bus from Ft. Lewis, Washington   He sits behind two women with flowing hair   And laughing voices   He gets caught in such anxiety that his legs shake   He looks around but no one sees      And in the dim light with a pocket knife pressed into his hand   Blood flows down onto the ground   And in the dim light passing billboards blur from sight      2 hours on a bus from Ft. Lewis, Washington   His direction even less known than when he joined   But 4 days is 4 days is 4 days free      And in the dim light, with a pocket knife pressed into his hand   Blood flows down onto the ground   And in the dim light passing billboards blur from sight