Creating Something Out Of Nothing, Only To Destroy

Your eyes, your concrete eyes.
Cross crisscrossmy path...
Walking in circular patterns.
Shoe shine your ammo, polish your metal.
I need not your wicked weapons.
My war is not with someone like you.
A string of blood that is not my own stɾings between.
Increase time and [Bm]it will fall [Em]into [C7]place.
A sword and [Bm]my [A]heart.
So much so that it makes its way through my [A]throat giving me thought to [C7]speak.
This becomes my [A]pistol.
This becomes my [A]dagger of my [A]time.
Don't sell out It all [Em]comes to.
This becomes your future.
Unseen war.
Your weapons are useless.
Drop the gun.
Golden gun.
Like bringing a knife to [C7]a gun fight.