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.....