Pocket

Take these silver bullets,
I don't need them now
Well I ran through this canyon,
And they're weighing me down
Sentimental words
Are for the pigs and cows
We're not allowed to find our fill

Killing times were not that bad
They kept us locked inside our heads
And after beating back the dread
We had to laugh cause every grain of sand
Had a supporting hand in what was said

And I said
That you're dead
And you deny it

Killing floor had metal slabs
The blood we lost fell through the cracks
The crowd that formed below us clapped
Their faces blank, and we just sat in line
And thought of better times, before the end

Before you left
Before you said
That you were faking it

And then I said
You're dead
And I said
That I was lying too