Banging my sword on my shield. Chanting a war cry,
In blood stained clothes, watching cannon balls soar by,
Facing a thousand guns, here stands a man with his pen,
Chest out and head high but will I stand in the end?

Ignorance. What a deafening noise. Supressing their voice,
While I am just passionately handling my weapon of choice,
Welcoming all those who are prepared to embrace my art,
Saying "Take a look." When I'm really saying "Take my heart."
Hoping it won't break apart. Think weapons can hurt you?
They could never affect my life like the presence of words do,
No knife or gun could stop me when these jaws tell tales,
Because violence isn't inspiration. It's "If all else fails."
It's a madman's last resort when his sentences aren't true,
But if violence is your answer, how intelligent are you?
They take aim with their rifles while I play colorful music,
Yelling "Give peace a chance!" as I strum an acoustic,
Humming a blue's riff as soldiers march to quiet me,
But I won't go silently, threatening remarks don't frighten me,
Why? I live on through this paper when I lay in my plot,
Because noone is dead until they are forgot...




So bury me.

__________________