Hands Down In Your Pockets

A flower turns to rotten words

The morning sky grows dim

The papers all eat themselves

And everything's a sin

A skeleton man with a flesh pen

Signs his golden name

Upon the wall, like a child’s scrawl

Like spirits leave a stain

Holy towns, holy worlds

And holy walking meat

Butchering itself

While blood rains in the street

And even a dead man wears a mask

There is no death's retreat

Just the siren's famous wail

That sings you sweet to sleep

Headless headlines hollow brеath

Lead us in that dance of death

And if you think you’rе not in line

Then you ain't being honest

The rules come from the top my friend

They run the world you're living in

The hypnotist, illusionist

Got hands down in your pockets

There's no trace of Eden here

Where the new martyr bleeds

Guns ring out in a house of God

Like thunder in your feed

And the twisted vines of myth they climb

Till you can't tell who's lying

The war gets close and no-one knows

For which side they are dying

Smog and fog and diamond shit

That shines and makes you ill

Is there one single unbroken heart

Out in the mire still?

Well if there is then tell me this

How long do you think it takes

Before the divide gets inside

And bleeds it till it breaks?

Headless headlines hollow breath

Lead us in that dance of death

And if you think you're not in line

Then you ain't being honest

The rules come from the top my friend

They run the world you’re living in

The hypnotist, illusionist

Got hands down in your pockets

Tents under the overpass

Broken glass and dread

Driving by, you lock the eye

But turn away the head

And the 1% can pick and chose

The fates of all of us

What’s it like to see

The golden rule turning into rust?

Voices voice the void in vain

On radios of silence

Like weary waves that push and pull

And give the ships no guidance

As candles burn and beg the dark

To stop its slow decent

Is this the light of conscience?

Oh tell me where it went

Headless headlines hollow breath

Lead us in that dance of death

And if you think you're not in line

Then you ain’t being honest

The rules come from the top my friend

They run the world you're living in

The hypnotist, illusionist

Got hands down in your pockets

Jeff Bezos and Pope Francis

Got hands down in your pockets

Mickey Mouse the capitalist

Got hands down in your pockets