Your bullet leaves the barrel; it’s not coming back That’s not a cliché; that’s a truth, the coldest truth It’s not engraved upon a tablet but upon your mind Upon the arrest reports, the jail book-in, the trial schedule
Upon your soul
Your bullet leaves the barrel and carries away Everything that is brave and good in you Every hope and dream, every noble thought Everyone whom you love, whom you wish to love
Upon your soul
Forever and ever, the screams and blood of innocents Are faceless terrors stalking you through your nights