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