Crash the car if the motor won't turn over
We traded distinction and praise for the tedious claim
Embedded under our bones
At the docks of the potters field
Now we carry fragments from detonated eyes
At 'em boys, give her the gun
Renounced the warmth of the turbulent grave
Jumped from the disloyal waves back up to the bridge
To the boredom that resurrected my soul
I found blood on my lips from a covetous kiss
Where the rifles of ranking men
And our memorial has veered off the road
I'm the richest man in town
Glory be to God
That we were wed in the trenches
The locals will bury my wandering eyes
While college boys pine for loveless exchange
We've spilled blood for the sake of fitting skin to the frame
At 'em boys, give her the gun
I'm the richest man in town
But our moneys is no good here
Faith, stand down give your wings
Are equipped with 21 silencers
