The system

the wide open beak of the slated prey
the run down wrath of illusions spent
line waiting for the sun in the corner's chill
i'll be riding through the needle, you'll be riding wheels

puking out all doubt, rolling up the sleeves
soldier's life is hard among grass and leaves
if i could have seen, then he would be blind
and if i were dead, then he'd be alive

so then search my body with your knotty hand
in your palsied chamber have me contained
i won't have beef with a change of place:
one who swims with sharks won't drown with rats

with the red hot iron over sour spot
with the salt and earth over open sores
from the warm soft bed right into the last round
from da gadda da vidda into underground

the wide open look of the slated crop
the wound down yoke of illusions lost
line waiting for the sun on the corner's chill
i'll be passing through the needle, you'll be riding wheels