I Can't Write Left-Handed - Bill Withers

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, tell her to tell the family lawyer

Trying to get, trying to get a deferment for my younger brother

Tell the Reverend Harris to pray for me, Lord, Lord, Lord

I ain't gonna live, I don't believe I'm going to live to get much older

Strange little man over here in Vietnam I ain't, I ain't never seen

Bless his heart ain't 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, rosy colored glasses

I must admit it seemed exciting anyway

Oh, but something that day overlooked to tell me, Lord

Bullets look better, I must say

Brother when they ain't coming at you

But going out the other way

And please call up the Reverend, call up, call up the Reverend Harris

Tell him to ask the Lord to do some good things for me

Tell him I ain't gonna live, I ain't gonna live, I ain't gonna live

To get much older, oh Lord

Strange little man over here in Vietnam, I ain't never seen

Bless his heart ain't never done nothing to, he done shot me in my shoulder

Lord