Bury The Hatchet Lyrics - Kezia - Protest The Hero

Place your justice in my palm and then I'll make fist 

Punch your grimaced face until every last 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 

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 a man 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 

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

Then I hold up his chin 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