They live
by the sword,
but they die of old age
They should spend their last wretched days
in a cage
Not surrounded by comfort,
in the ponds of their ilk
Your final few statements
come sounding through silk
Tyr ant s in spirit, if not by law,
devoid of all conscience,
lifting their jaw
Half -baked Medici without the art,
punk Mussolini without
the smarts
Drunk drivers shooting face in the dark,
none of them ever in harm's way
None of them ever in harm's way
Of course,
we've seen their kind before,
but never so low and
so close to shore.
When finally they succumb to their fate,
there'll be multiple thousands
of victims too late.
They live by the sword,
but they die of old age
With no end in sight,
as they step off the stage
Someone else suffers for every mistake
They have and they have
and they take what they take
Justice for those without means,
without ways
The one thing you learn is
that ruthlessness pays
They live by the sword,
but they die of old age
Should spend their last wretched days
in a cage
No end in sight as they
step off the stage
They live by the sword,
but they die of old age you