By Julie D. Griffin
The touchdown at the end of the late, great planet earth for one boy. As sad tommy guns evade his otherwise private, peaceful state, and his lonely place, one maid comes-a-knockin at his hotel door. But what wall beyond his bended mind, does he know how the feet run, and the legs run away from the violent protest of war. A soldier grabs a young man not so feeling 7-Up. And as four dead in Ohio, a guilded Hitler (Stalin), he sings from the balcony. If you want to know what's behind these cold eyes. A bad vision of a war torn world appears while some use the excuse not to love by saying, well it is a sin torn world.
A musical of no less great proportion, oh the things that must go through a wounded soldier mind.