Letra Bury The Hatchet de Protest The Hero original

Well place your justice in my palm and then I'll make a fist
And punch your grimaced face, until every knuckle breaks
And bleeds in resistance to my sidewalk painting
A mangled body twitching and regaining consciousness and closure
Attempting composure before a bullet in the mouth answers the questions of exposure
And God, of Sunday School façades, a paycheque to validate the time I served abroad
(We will say that it all means nothing) If I forget why I'm here
To serve and protect my fist over fist, mind under matter career
That's why this sounds kind of funny when he falls to his knees
With his hands on his throat while he begs you to please (spare his life)
Falls to his knees (when he falls to his knees)
Falls to his knees (With his hand on his throat while he begs you to please)
Oh all of this ask for change (change)
While I explain the hardest of bodies dulls the softest of knives
Then I hold up his chin and carve X's in his eyes
I swear I have compassion I've just been trained to disregard the prisoner's life
'cause I'm the prison guard