Bury the Hatchet
Protest the Hero
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Place your justice in my palm and then I'll make fist Punch your grimaced face until every last knuckle breaks And bleeds in resistance to my sidewalk painting A mangled body twitching and regaining consciousness and closure Attempting composure before a bullet in the mouth answers the questions of exposure And God of Sunday School façades and paycheques to validate the time I served abroad It all means nothing if I forget why I'm here To serve and protect my fist over fist mind under matter career That's why a man sounds kind of funny when he falls to his knees With his hand on his throat while he begs you to please spare his life While I explain the hardest of bodies dulls the softest of knives Then I hold up his chin and carve X's in his eyes I swear I have compassion I've just been trained to disregard the prisoner's life Because I am the prison guard
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Written by: ARIF MIRABODLBAGHI, LUCAS HOSKIN, MORGAN CARLSON, RODY WALKER, TIM MILLAR
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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"Bury the Hatchet Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 30 Apr. 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric/8715167/Protest+the+Hero/Bury+the+Hatchet>.
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