Death of a Poet

Buyers remorse, return to the source

Grab your torch, before they enter with force

Murdered my rights, severed my roots

Endeavors at night, click, aim and shoot

Christ ain't the only one with a body and blood

And you ain't the only mother fucker with a gun

From the death of a poet comes the start of a war

And the soldiers will die so the rich can make us all more poor

Am I in a simulation? Is this all a fucking joke?

You can bet there is a fire, when all you see is smoke

Wish that you could be a hero, all you are is a casualty

But ya know blood gone cold, still red as can be

Christ ain't the only one with a body and blood

And you ain't the only mother fucker with a gun

From the death of a poet comes the start of a war

And the soldiers will die so the rich can make us all more poor

Lights reflecting off the water, shadows cower in the corner

You can either stand with us or sit alone

At the very epicenter of the poetry we've rendered

Are these hands so torn by war and never coming home

Death of a poet, start of a war

You won't even know it, till it's at your door

Death of a poet, start of a war

You won't even know it, till it's right at your door