who do you trust in the blackness i can feel this planet underneath my feet revolving its all gone according to plan but whose plan i met the devil in the middle of the night like a lover from another lifetime his eyes were sad and deep and dreaming alone in a crowd he passed right by and last night i experienced evil faded and broken from blazin the opiate of the people third strike im so gone hold on waist deep in the river with all my clothes on and i aint sayin theres no god just sayin it takes more than religion to know god no tears my face is a sand storm and ive had a crash course in that force all we ask for is justice ive seen him fleein the scene one set of footprints runnin so keep your faith ill keep on breathin i will always have something to believe in after everything ive seen its hard to see coincidence i dont know whos listenin i wanna stay away from the fire id talk to the lord but im scared that hes wearin a wire lets conquer the space between the molotov cocktail flame and the stone faced revolutionary with the bad aim the landscape is bleedin my palms are stained red find another universe to leave for dead leaves are soakin in the wine but it tastes alright have another sip itll help to chase the nightmares are scared of the dark in these parts so dance in the moonlight hide from the morning star born in the forks of the tongues of the sins of the innocent twins one is wearin a cloak and a cloven hoof the other is livin proof that pretty things can have sinister wings too so walk like a predator rememberin the steps of his last meal pop the champagne waste what you cant spill pinch your skin if you feel it then you know its real leave it in the dream where the steam rises off her still for every action you know the rest so consider this a warning consider this mourning in america the proletariat is still snoring street corners mirror the faces lines forming once upon a time there was a story went to sleep at eighteen and woke up when he was forty no savings and hes not insured but he helped a corporation make a few cents more and as a young man he helped a nation fight and win a war but hes getting more and more convinced it was a sin so he sits quietly in the revival wondering if god is the revolver hidden in the bible in the middle of a crisis he is living life like a missile in a silo rusted and dusty but still capable of devouring a country hungry people dont stay hungry they either die or they take a bite and one day hes gonna crack open and bleed sunshine through the fading night one day they will take his life  maybe not through death but a simple push a soft breaking he will be lying in bed or waiting to get on a bus and his hands will roll up like starving spiders his lips will form a word maybe a name and he will push back we are all closer we are all capable we all have so much tumbling around inside of us pushing against our skin kicking at the weak points they forget how much pressure is built up inside how nobly we fight to hold it in how easily we break1