Lyrics:

Bill Withers

I Can't Write Left Handed

I can't write left-handed.
Would you please write a letter-write a letter to my
mother?
Tell her to tell-tell her to tell the family lawyer.
Trying to get a deferment for my younger brother.
Tell the Rev. Harris to pray for me. Lord, lord,
lord.
I aint gonna live-I don't believe I'm going to live
to
get much older.
Strange little man over here in Vietnam I aint never
seen, bless
his heart, aint never done nothing to, he done shot me
in my shoulder.

Boot camp we had classes.
You know we talked about fighting-fighting everyday.
And looking through rosy colored glasses, I must admit
it seemed exciting anyway.
Oh, but someone that day overlooked to tell me bullets
look better,
I must say - brother - when they're coming at you than
going out the other way
And please call up the Rev. Harris. Tell him to ask
the Lord to do some good things for me.
Tell him I aint gonna live-I aint gonna live to get
much older.

Whoa, Lord. Strange little man over here in Vietnam I
aint never seen - bless his heart-
I aint never done nothing to, he done shot me in my
shoulder.
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