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 My name is Dodge,                            then you know that
 it's written on the                            chart there at the foot end of the bed.
 They think I'm blind,                            that I can't read it,
 but I've read it,                            every word and every word it says is "death".
 So confession, is that                            the reason that you came?
 Get it off my                            chest, before I check out of the game?
 Since you mention it,                            well there's thirteen things I'll name,
 thirteen crosses high above,                            the cold Missouri waters.

 August 'Forty-Nine, North Montana,                           
 the hottest day on                            record, the forest tinder dry.
 Lightning strikes, in the                            mountains.
 As crew chief at                            the jump base I prepared the boys to fly.
 Pick the drop zone,                            C-47 comes in low.
 Feel the tap, upon                            your leg that tells you "GO".
 See the circle, of                            the fire down below.
 Fifteen of us dropped                            above, the cold Missouri waters.

 Gauged the fire, I'd                            seen bigger.
 I ordered them to                            sidehill, we'd fight it from below.
 We'd have our backs,                            to the river.
 We'd have it licked                            by morning even if we took it slow,
 But the fire crowned,                            jumped the valley just ahead.
 There's no way down,                            headed for the ridge instead.
 Too big to fight                            it, we'd have to fight that slope instead.
 Flames one step behind                            above, the cold Missouri waters.

 Sky turned red. Smoke                            was boiling.
 Two hundred yards to                            safety, death was fifty yards behind.
 I don't know why,                            I just thought it.
 I struck a match                            to waist high grass --- running out of time.
 Tried to tell them,                            step into this fire I set.
 We can't make it,                            this is the only chance you'll get.
 But they cursed me,                            ran for the rocks above instead.
 I lay face down                            and prayed above, the cold Missouri waters.

 a a a aa                            aa

 And when I rose,                            like the phoenix,
 that world reduced to                            ashes there were none but two survived.
 I stayed that night,                            one day after.
 Carried bodies to the                            river, wondering how I stayed alive.
 Thirteen stations, of the                            cross to mark their fall.
 I've had my say,                            I'll confess to nothing more.
 I'll join them now,                            those that left me long before.
 Thirteen crosses high above                            the cold Missouri water.
 Thirteen crosses high above                            the cold Missouri shoooooooor. uu uu uuuu