The Old Rugged Cross-Hairs…
On a hill far away,
stood a lone jihad guard,
just waiting for .50′s to kiss,
So I cranked in my scope,
and I took careful aim,
cuz I practice,
so I’ll never miss…
Refrain
So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
As I blow soldiers right to the ground…
Oh that old rugged cross,
So despised by those troops,
Has a wondrous attraction for me,
I’m just trying to spread,
Some Marine-Corps type dread,
So my D.I will be proud of me…
Second Refrain
And I cherish that old rugged cross,
where the hairs mark where bullets will be,
cuz they fling soldiers up in the air,
in a place where no soldiers should be…
My M40A1,
stained with blood so divine,
Is the pinup of beauty for me,
As my enemies die,
cuz they’re shot in the eye,
Via a sniper from over the sea…
Third Refrain
So I’ll cherish the crosshairs of death,
Till all enemies lay on the ground;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
As I blow soldiers right to the ground…
To the prez I’ll be true,
And the red, white and blue,
Where the liberals just stand there and stare,
Then he’ll call me someday,
To my home far away,
to pardon and exonerate me…
Refrain
So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
As I blow soldiers right to the ground…
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