A photo op, a timely speech   Set upon the carved debris   Of the metal graveyard’s scenery   A wholesale slaughter’s guaranteed      A warning that the enemy   Ain’t your average ass jockey   He wears polo shirts and denim jeans   And an explosive heart up his sleeve      Lock him up, lock him in   Scan the landscape for his kin   Give that worn-out title   New meaning      The sultry scent of evergreen   Diffusing from the gasoline   With a stifled conscience, life is sweet   The outside world is your latrine      The only soldier drafted   Is the prisoner upstairs   And we’re no longer asking   We’re dictating our prayers      The sole thing that we’re certain of is that He’s on our side   But we’ve never thought of His side, we never took the time   So we’ll ask that old library clerk   To find a chapter and a verse   Corresponding with our work   And on our bombs we’ll paint the words   To whom this may concern   Keep turning that cheek   This earth is for the strong   And death is for the meek