The Fists Of Protocol

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The Fists Of Protocol

So this is the sound that murder makes:
a cobweb sigh
enough to shut my eyes
and make me wish this wasn't new to me.
So this is the sound that murder makes:
the hum of hope
the buzz of neck and rope
that speaks up when the public finds its prey.
It took some time
to settle in
brief introductions were made:
blade to skin
eye contact too
right at the end
i saw a wolf dressed like a friend
death at first sight
sleep at the end of the longest night
i always thought i’d fight
i never thought you’d

send me bleeding on my way
smashing things to fill the garbage temple where we shared rent
you left hands and feet to pay
but we can't cash them in anywhere
So i became a bank
a steel fort of endless funds
So this is the sound that murder makes:
the sum of soot
the fear of what's afoot
the realization that your heart's astray.
So this is the sound that murder makes:
the number-punching thunder that the fists of protocol obey.
Maybe it’s true
maybe we only sang one song
maybe we’re first place in a zombie marathon
but now there’s a sound – a symphony of suffering
spit from the throat you slit
and we’re writing our names in it

Now i’m a razor blade
i’m a pile of pills
a hand without a heart
and what doesn’t bleed cannot be ---

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