Open his chest, you'll see,
he's got a purple heart.
It's a souvineir he brought back from the war.
He got shot in '42
but somehow survived the mortal wound.
His mama must've dipped him in the river by his ankle.
He lost a day crossing
the internation dateline,
but he had a nurse in his arms,
kicking and laughing.
He was such a glorious grunt
I saw him on the cover of LIFE magazine.
And you can see him now,
he's right there sleeping
in the middle of the day.
The decorated are dissapearing
in Montgomery.
Was it 1945,
he made it back alive,
and nearly choked on falling white confetti.
Marching down the boulevard,
feet in sync and hand to heart
Rosie the Riveter was there waving.
He's got a roomate now,
he's a former slide trombone
in Lawrence Welk's well oiled machine.
He doesn't know he was famous.
He doesn't even know what his name is.
Go ahead and snap your fingers, a-one and a-two and a-three.
And you can see him now,
he's right there sleeping
in the middle of the day.
The decorated are dissapearing,
in Montgomery.
He's never out of uniform,
they just changed the colors on it.
Ever seen a foot soldier dressed in white?
But he thinks he's camoflauged,
and he's preparing an ambush,
'cause all the angels go dive bombing at night.
In Montgomery.