Spoon fed from a dirty plate   A diet designed only to agitate   A veil of pride and gospel truth   To cover the hidden fist that he used      And I won't say a word   You've sewn me in my skin   Hypocrite walking stick man   Silent grave      And the sunken heel kinda slows me down      Dogs and children lift their legs   To tattoo a teenage mother's breasts   Widows of precocious days   Wear slogans resurrected late      Parables for wooden ears   Steer vehicles of wisdom   All the wisdom      And I won't say a word   You've sewn me in my skin   Hypocrite walking stick man   Silent grave      And the sunken heel kinda lights my way      And I won't say a word   You've sewn me in my skin   Hypocrite walking stick man   Silent grave