A photo op, a timely speechnSet upon the carved debrisnOf the metal graveyard's scenerynA wholesale slaughter's guaranteednnA warning that the enemynAin't your average ass jockeynHe wears polo shirts and denim jeansnAnd an explosive heart up his sleevennLock him up, lock him innScan the landscape for his kinnGive that worn-out titlenNew meaningnnThe sultry scent of evergreennDiffusing from the gasolinenWith a stifled conscience, life is sweetnThe outside world is your latrinennThe only soldier draftednIs the prisoner upstairsnAnd we're no longer askingnWe're dictating our prayersnnThe sole thing that we're certain of is that He's on our sidenBut we've never thought of His side, we never took the timenSo we'll ask that old library clerknTo find a chapter and a versenCorresponding with our worknAnd on our bombs we'll paint the wordsnTo whom this may concernnKeep turning that cheeknThis earth is for the strongnAnd death is for the meek