All Hands On The Medic

Maybe the bombs look better from where you're standing

Maybe the chronic fatigue and lifeless noon-times

Are something you've been waiting for

But i don't see it like that

Taking harm for health and blood for tolls

Your three piece isn't war paint

And your polished vocabulary still doesn't get you to say what you want

So i stole your students

I gave them color in their faces and revolt in their steps

Let them call out all of your officials with half truth blindfolds

And gave them reason to strip all of your system failed defense

Took all of your lab coats and handed them to the frozen faces

In the dark alleys on these midwinter nights

Lifted all your padlocked journals and plastered all the hidden antidotes

On every billboard that boasts your names, your cancers, your invasion techniques

We offer shower for the victims

Of your presence, your ultimate degradation

This is final

This is seizure.