No one ever fell in love with the slash of a sword
You can slice, dice and tear
But there are war-ravaged, pain-stricken voices echoing everywhere
And rivers cascading of blood, meat and bone
And a pen made a legend because
Aristotle was only a philosopher and Alexander was Great
So the pen made the sword, swords never made pens
And ****** was an eight-year-old choir boy on the road to priesthood
And Stalin was the child of abusive alcoholic, kicked out of school
But the pen draws scars far deeper then the sword
Because words can hurt far better then they heal
And words can cut down people in ways the sword can't fathom
And you can always stab someone with a pen
But you can hardly write a lullaby with a ****** dagger.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 11:52 AM UTC
No one ever fell in love with the slash of a sword
You can slice, dice and tear
But there are war-ravaged, pain-stricken voices echoing everywhere
And rivers cascading of blood, meat and bone
And a pen made a legend because
Aristotle was only a philosopher and Alexander was Great
So the pen made the sword, swords never made pens
And ****** was an eight-year-old choir boy on the road to priesthood
And Stalin was the child of abusive alcoholic, kicked out of school
But the pen draws scars far deeper then the sword
Because words can hurt far better then they heal
And words can cut down people in ways the sword can't fathom
And you can always stab someone with a pen
But you can hardly write a lullaby with a ****** dagger.
