it's as if everything you see back in 1963, black hearts 
among them kneeling. only one of them was screaming - go. 
they've got fire up in trees. in the balance, in the 
breeze. hold the trigger with some feeling. as the choir 
sings out of key - they sing: blood! mistrust! and the 
love of god! red, white, blue and bleed through the 
pearly gates i see dead air, an army of greed. with holes 
in their hearts i see making plans to mark the art, a 
silver lining falls apart. with sinners digging graves in 
sand, we land ourselves trembling hands. great god. bury 
hard, with all our might- we might make our mark. holding 
hands to choke belief. gripping people that we need. in a 
moment they were stealing a thief that stole a piece of 
me.