Three Altars for Rats - Arms Aloft

The rats are in the corn again and my faith’s been all but shattered

The cat’s in the cradle, feast asleep, his lungs in ragged tatters

But living will is to mercy kill as standing still is to going backwards

We’re being fucking dragged there

When «protect and serve» tastes like a curse and falls

All the resolve of a dead dog’s bite

All the brilliance of A Thousand Points of Light

Swallow your words and try to keep your voice down

Truth for a truth

A lie for a lie

Let the bastards spend 10,000 restless nights with every hair on the back of

their necks alive with the burning glare of grieving mother’s eyes…

in no short supply

Agent provocateurs: Rats in a cheaply sewn disguise

If you’re lucky, they’ll let you foot the bill for the mace that’s in your eyes

But big enough carrot, long enough stick and we’ll swear we’re immune to the

sting of the whip and chomp at the bit of scraps they cast aside

Tooth for crooked tooth and eye for blind eye

Let the bastards hang 100 stories high

And serve as shade from the glare of harsh sunlight for those they saw as

merely rungs on which to rise…

On the wings of flies