Your eyes, man. Your eyes are filled with all the death and hate and sadness with missing girls and lost homes and distant parents and even siblings of any man with eyes like that.
And a rifle.
And, man, those eyes have seen it all.
How can you do it?
How can I agree to it?
If you ever need a country to help you out and soften those blows and bandage those wounds and help you deliver those letters to your dead friend's family, well, I have a bumper sticker.
I have a plastic wrist-band.
It's yellow and says that I support the troops.