Hard shell, platinum steel, graze the feel.
When the sharpest edges cut
hands flow with rusted blood.

Heads keep banging as the guitar strings pull
heavy and full.
Moraca like pockets of coin, join
Body parts mold, then brush the floor

Are you breaking my will,
Iron Hammer?
Metal banter?
Are you welding my hand to yours?

Keep your tempered glass,
you splintered wood.
By and by
keep renting your goods.

The studs and the black
can't cover you.
Brass knuckles break concrete
on Fool Street
the metal, the metal
the sound!