Where can I stand in my uniform?. Cannon fodder, six foot tall. Big and brave, next to my grave. Wait patiently for the death of me. . Swings and roundabouts on unfairgrounds.
Could have been a major problem. But I did not, I didn't look back. And all you dirty druggies. Chicken shit, Sad Sacks. . Rewriting history. Tampering in my story.
When the blood in your drugs turns to shale. They had you hung, drawn and quartered tooth and nail. Empty pockets making idle hands. Mugging as a job requires good plans.
I can see potential, I can see intention. With a pocket full of seeds, hope keeps me alive. I can see contention, financing situations. Maybe may never be.
I can only feel and think in the language of. Worn like the walls around you. Cliches otheres have concocted for you. Prefabricated pre-conception. All around you.
Is there a king that can do no wrong. When I play my fiddle-will I see you dance. The crown that sings its very own song. You crack the whip-and I'll break the lance.
Body and soul, an animal. As a sword, swing double edged. Dig deep down, that monthly frown. You have the tools, to make men fools. . Cruel, cruel, cruel.
Some unions are based on trust. Some unions are a must. Upside down on a turn key-you and me. some like it on the other side. Trussed up like a turkey.
What does it mean, what does anything mean. What is not dirty, what is not clean. Sending out signals I see the smoke screens. What should we not hear, what shouldn't be seen.