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HABBINAYAH
Here in light of methodic movement,
we have our history.
As we cross the ragged Kuwaiti borders,
defunct sweat and hot air are the fruits of our labor.
Bottleneck roads drive suspicion,
as shady gestures greet.
Bound to the integrity of motto,
we remain athirst to our mission's aim.
In perpetual wonder, we're acquainted to resounding idioms as we gaze the Milky Way.
Nearing the midst of travel,
we roar as hilos fly overhead.
As a mere surprise, we witness destruction, caused by the art of one's lore.
Yet amid threats of danger,
animals grant mute amusements.
At last we arrive on camp,
there the Colonel says:
Hooaah! Centurions, harvest this camp, and breathe.
Make no mistake, we'll be here until we leave.
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