Creating Something Out of Nothing, Only to Destroy It

Norma Jean

Your eyes, your concrete eyes

Cross, crisscross my path
They walk, walking in circular
Patterns, 
Shoe shine your ammo, your metal
Shoe shine, polish your gun
I need not your wicked weapons

My war is not with someone like you
My war is not with someone like you

String of blood
That is not my own
Strings between
A sword and my heart
So much so
That it makes its way through
My throat
Giving me thought to speak

My pistol
My dagger
This becomes your future
Unseen war
String of blood
That is not my own
Strings between a sword
And my heart
It's so much so
That it makes its way through my throat
Giving me thought to speak
This becomes my pistol
This becomes my dagger
This becomes your future
Unseen war

Your weapons are useless
(Drop the gun)
Golden gun
(The gun)
Your weapons are useless
(Drop the gun)

Golden gun
(The gun)
Your weapons are useless
(Drop the gun)
Golden gun
(The gun)
Your weapons are useless
(Drop the gun)
Golden gun
(The gun)

Like bringing a knife to a gun fight
Like bringing a knife to a gun fight
Like bringing a knife to a gun fight

Like bringing a knife to a gun fight
Like bringing a knife to a gun fight
Like bringing a knife to a gun fight
Like bringing a knife to a gun fight
Like bringing a knife to a gun fight
Like bringing a knife to a gun fight
Like bringing a knife to a gun fight
Like bringing a knife to a gun fight
Like bringing a knife to a gun fight
Like bringing a knife to a gun fight