The Hero

The hero lines his cape in bills Backed with voices, and trusting still In comic gods that sign dark designs In paper reason past its prime He's tired of the status quo Bucks in gear, fast forward mode He sets his sights on might makes right And cocks his trigger tight for a fight They'll write you a song my friend If you fight till the bitter end Their weakness gives you a name Selective memory has no shame In a hero's game Strung within his sallow skin Pound sacred songs lamenting kin He's a wild weed hung on his seed Righteous roots, dying breed Chills his thoughts in army fatigues His nursery rhyme mouth speaks only in decree His voice is shrill and he misses the notes But everything he does is worth a quote They'll write you a song my friend If you fight till the bitter end Their weakness gives you a name Selective memory has no shame In a hero's game All your doubts, misgivings, and fears Drown in laughter on wise men's beards Furrowed brows ooze know how Borrowed from an ancient vow Their bloody stories give them their right The mandarins mold corpses into monuments overnight A future statue doesn't need for(e)sight Just a promise in stone and a name in bold type They'll write you a song my friend If you fight till the bitter end Their weakness gives you a name Selective memory has no shame In a hero's game