Ask questions later, answer the cries.
The echo of teardrops from a thousand good-byes.
I've seen the world passing me by
and I've seen the wake of untimely demise.
Step this way soldier to become a man
Out of the open flame and into the pan.
You're born on the fourth, born just to die.
Beware Johnny War-Boy there's a storm on the rise.
The dark side of freedom is measured in regret.
White-wash a memory now we're taught to forget.
They come 'round the table with labels in line.
Come if you're able with hope on the side.
Pacifist practice tends to fall by
a kiss on the cheek and a wink of the eye.
Strikes like a match, struck like a chord.
Scissors beats paper but the pen beats the sword.
The shove off the wall was the fall heard by all but the call
of the king's men couldn't mend them.
The blood on the hands of the clock can be washed but the hands
of the hangman remain stained and
the ticking of time-slot life-lines counted down...counted down
to the time of the rise of these hypocrites.
Hairs crossed like fingers from the fear of the misunderstood.
Lovers...seek out...shelter.
The burning itch...of a candle which...is polar wicked
Begins to twist intentions from both ends.
So quick to chose the shortest fuse,
When different views are misused to prove who is right.
The claim of faith of Holy Wraith
is all erased when patience is out-weighed by debate.
A war of stone in a stained-glass home
When blame is thrown the claim of faith's as brittle as bone.
The market's a target for the fundraiser fight.
Mothers and children and fathers alike.
Red runs the moon with a sack-cloth-black sun
Red *** in the spoon for the soup to be done.
Red *** in the spoon when we're done, when we're done.
Red *** coming soon and we're done.