Ohh……baby….      Gotta take a chance someday…   But don’t get in their way.   Because if you did…   There’d be hell to pay.      She’s a swivel on an old wooden horse.   Taking swings at the windows.   Along the lawn dances shadows from the grove.   They’re busy chanting a familiar catch phrase.   “drain their blood from their bodies”   “let’s flood these streets with a passion unknown”      I’ve got a fireball   That can shred these walls.      So use us like a fan attempting to divert the flames from your face.   We’ll keep changing our path, because it leads to the same place.   That meadow never grows cold. Such a warm feeling takes over your body…   like a curtain on a lawyer’s soul.   So ask your mother what he said…   He said “use me up. Spit me out. Take my spine. Sharpen your razor.   Kick me down. Beat me up. Take that gun. Disassemble your militia.”   Now is not the time…or ever will there be.   A time…you can hear that catch phrase calling!   “Guns. War. Crime lords. Politics. Weapons. Patriots.”      The ground is ten miles high.   Our hearts are stacked one by one…atop a pillar of blood red shame.   The sky is beneath the earth.   Vultures are circling this grave.   The four horsemen’s path leads directly this way!      But, baby…can’t you hear that catch phrase calling your name?!      Can you hear that catch phrase calling?   Can you hear that catch phrase calling?   Can you hear that army on your face sprawling…?   Can you feel those talons clawing?      “Here’s your ticket to fame and infinite shame.”