Find me the man with his hand on the gun
Paint him in colors of hottest maroon
Round up the feverish crowd in the street
Wrapped in the smoke of an honest belief
And enraged by a body turned cold

Next time they willingly foster the lie
Cut loose the guillotine, sever the spine
Bring me the head of the chief of police
You set the stage up and I’ll write the speech
On coming of age in the fire

Raise up your hand to the height of your eye
Hold in your fist what your foes would deny
Reject the sounds of the tyrants who teach
That only through war can they promise you peace

Imbalance, you know, is a product of malice
Faith is unbreakable, honest and cherished
Crooks in the suits are polluted and cold
What is a man if he cannot break out of the mold?

Pour in the hearts of American homes
What people in Palestine already know
Beat on the heads of the soviet drums
The third world war has already begun

Imbalance, you know, is a product of malice
Faith is unbreakable, honest and cherished
Crooks in the suits are polluted and cold
What is a man if he cannot break out of it?

Financing violence
They’re financing violence
With routine cruelty, financing violence

Twin image-buildings
Spew plumes of thick chaos
The paranoia darkens enemy lungs ---

Building a pen, locking you in
The fruit of resistance rots on the limb
While avarice gains hold of the reigns
They’re sealing your fate by
Financing violence

They re-load guns
And all the prisons overrun
When the drones hit homes
Big business booms by
Financing violence

Fear not,
The Ides are marching!
Hold the line

The road, despite all the stones, requires us walking
In balance to lay low the agents of madness
Aiming to make us complacent and calloused
Minds of the future imprisoned and cold
What is a man if he cannot break out of the mold?

Play another solo, Joe…

Feast your eyes
Upon the undulating tides of time
That wash the blood away
As empires dissolve
Humanity’s remains