M1 Garand

Lyrics

I was cut from walnut, stamped in steel
Born in Springfield, built to take a beating
Handed to a boy who was learning what was real
His breath on my receiver, shallow and freezing
Nine and a half pounds against his collarbone
We learned to sleep in the ruined mud
He treated me better than he treated his own
Fingers, stiffened with the frost and the blood

I am semi-automatic, I am heavy and true
I cycle the brass like they built me to do
But I count every trigger pull, terrified, waiting
For the end of the en-bloc clip

I fear the eighth round.
I fear the sudden, ringing sound
When the steel flies up and the chamber goes bare
And leaves him holding nothing but air.

They call me a savior in the history books
Put me in glass with the ribbons and dust
But they don't know the way that a nineteen-year-old looks
When the tree line flashes and I am his luck
My bolt slams back, my action is hot
The casing hits the dirt, another one chambered
He flinches before the incoming drop
I hold the line where the earth is hammered

His thumb presses down into my open breach
The edge of his hand keeping the bolt at bay
He doesn't even think, it is a desperate reach
The arm knows the motion when the mind gives way
But it takes two seconds.
Two seconds of quiet.

I am semi-automatic, I am heavy and true
I cycle the brass like they built me to do
But I count every trigger pull, terrified, waiting
For the end of the en-bloc clip
I fear the eighth round.
I fear the sudden, ringing sound
When the steel flies up and the chamber goes bare
And leaves him holding nothing but air.

Now I am polished.
Now I am safe on a rack.

But I still feel the spring let go.
I still see his eyes dart back.
Waiting for the brass to catch.
I was always so afraid I wouldn't load fast enough.