Protest The Hero 04 - Bury The Hatchet Lyrics

Place your justice in my palm
And then I'll make a 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 facades and paychecks
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