I've lost good friends and much of my crew-
and yet the boat sails on;
Though I stand: leader of few-
does not mean that I am done.
and hear, my friends, the call to duty that all good hearts adhere
some call it our job, some call it god-
but all the good souls fear;
yes all the good souls listen my friends-
when a higher purpose draws near.
The sound of the slide milking its fang
The sweat on your palms as you meander.
The target's beyond some door but you'll never know where
And the night is like a muted recording studio with the lights out.
From a distance, reality breathes
and you hear the bark of some angry highway dog
On a highway with hundreds of angry metal hounds
Then the other snake attacks and stings your shoulder.
It's wet like rain but in a split second, you react with no pain.
Lightning screams in the night from the extension of your forearm and in an instant a father's dead.
A brother silenced from anger and fearlessness in the struggle for living well.
Foot soldiers all go to hell but you'll be carried off by the Valkyrie.
Backup will arrive too late but wait, there's a light,
Or that's what you'll tell them if they get there to save your life
soon! And you drift off to sleep in a recording studio with no mics or lights.
