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'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'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'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's the wing 



Ch: Deadeye watches, still the killing carries on . . .