Sing for Your Meat

When you write about the boys

Under friendly fire, dress 'em up in suits

And seek her to kill, freedom of the will

Ours and, yes, yours, yesterday, today

Onward marching on

Chameleon, don't paint your skin to the color of confection

And turn away from every ghost you've been

And sure enough, I saw your head at the tent sale and fire auction

For a taste and a chaser, you're a solid gold debaser

Can you ever be a boy again, or have you stopped?

Trade lost hours for a dare, burn the water, cook the air?

And twenty-one is the legal age to kill yourself slowly

But eighteen is the legal age to die

Would I cast my vote into the inside shit?

I'm often wont to crawl, that's all

Don't leave me now to drag my chains to a rhythm never changing

Lost from found and beaten down

When you write about the boys

Under friendly fire, dress 'em up in suits

And seek her to kill, freedom of the will

Ours and, yes, yours, yesterday, today

Onward marching on