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To the thoughts of the many from the minds of the few
voice of reason, censored view
the truth is the news and the news is the truth
as if that&#39;ll do as a lame excuse for
killing the slavers, taking the slaves
burying the dead, then robbing the graves
stealing the modesty from heroes brave
making the tears gush like waves
Ch: deadeye watches, still the killing carries on
to the rhythm of the gunfire and the voices of concern
deadeye claims to be some conscience for us all
but i was never born to be some fly upon the wall
Window dressing and the tinsel wreath
stealing the pity and the widow&#39;s grief
sentimental with a furrowed brow
pinning the heart on the blooded sleeve
Ch: deadeye watches, still the killing carries on . . .
And yes i&#39;ve crouched beneath the glow - dazzled by it all
but this is not the world i know or people i recall.
to the thoughts of the many from the minds of the few:
voice of reason, censored view
a little knowledge is a dangerous thing
here is the butterfly, here&#39;s the wing
Ch: deadeye watches, still the killing carries on . . .

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