Time to go

Everytime I saw him, he smiled and said, "Time to go."
It was my duty, the control over me.
Deny an order meant I'd be rising my head seeing that lucky stiff in the sky above rather than fly over looking down.  Of all the fucking jobs in this world sitting behind a 30 caliber at 100 mph wasn't all bad. 3-5 flights a day got me back in this shitty LZ every night, laying in a hole in the ground filled with snakes and rats. 
The only way out of here is by the help of those that took me here. 
How the hell did I get to a place like this?
Someone's going to pay big time for putting me in a place like this. 
No ones going to ever put me in this position again.
I'm never going to be afraid after getting out of this!
The vibration in this place never stops, somethings moving all the time.
Gotta get high to fly up above it, a construct that gets you through the maze you are in, with no corridors to walk through.
This place, open to the jungle, the humid heat, smell of putrid varieties of nothing good, and the blue sky like the one back home in Iowa.
Just get me back, to the softness of life, my lips pressed against hers, the touch of me on her, take  away all this outside shit, go into your garden, enveloped by you, your world so close I don't have to stand alone. 
Get me out, back into the depth of us.