In my head it makes perfect sense A cautionary tale of sitting on a fence Send your goons to break a turned cheek Our sapphire sockets and pacifist's bleat
Your charged words have got me by the wrist Turning gold to dirt, reverse alchemist I'm scared in a face irate But I won't fight just to break your plate
A mealy interior and a bullshit stance Dealing war crimes in repetitious cadence A culprit in the pulpit without rhyme or treason A fallen rioteer with a reason
Your charged words have got me by the wrist Turning gold to dirt, reverse alchemist I'm scared in a face irate But I won't fight just to break your plate