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In my head it makes perfect sense A cautionary tale sitting on a fence Send your goons to break a turned cheek Our sapphire sockets and pacifist's bleat Your charged words have got me by the wrist Turning gold to dirt, reverse alchemist I'm scared in a face irate But I won't fight just to break your plate A mealy interior and a bullish stance Dealing war crimes in repetitious cadence A culprit in the pulpit without rhyme or treason A fallen rioteer with a reason Your charged words have got me by the wrist Turning gold to dirt, reverse alchemist I'm scared in a face irate But I won't fight just to break your plate With your charged words..... From Letras Mania