Bury The Hatchet

Well place your justice in my palm

and then I'll make a fist

And punch your grimaced face

until every knuckle breaks

And bleeds in resistance to my sidewalk painting

A mangled body twitching and regaining consciousness and closure

Attempting composure before a bullet

in the mouth answers the questions of exposure

And God of Sunday School façades

and paycheques to validate the time I served abroad

(We will say it all means nothing) if I forget why I'm here

To serve and protect my fist over fist

mind under matter career

That's why this sounds kind of funny

when he falls to his knees

With his hand on his throat while he begs you to please (spare his life)

Falls to his knees (when he falls to his knees)

Falls to his knees (With his hand on his throat while he begs you to please)

Oh all of this ask for change (change)

While I explain the hardest of bodies dulls the softest of knives

When I hold up his head and carve X's in his eyes

When I hold up his head and carve X's in his eyes

and carve X's in his eyes

I swear I have compassion

I've just been trained to disregard the prisoner's life

Because I am the prison guard

I swear I have compassion

I've just been trained to disregard the prisoner's life

Because I am the prison guard