As A Matter Of Fact

loose cannons fired at will…
aim at anything dear to get my fill…
I pushed all the right buttons…
sharpened all the wrong skills…
I’ve picked the prettiest poisons and I’ve swallowed the pill…
as a matter of fact I have a habit of taking things to the furthest reaches and
immediately pleading to begin again…
friendly fire…
rusty guns for hire…
come warm your hands at the pyre I built…
all the things I’ve killed are stacked up for miles…
we’re forever climbing to the top of the pile… as a matter of fact I have a
habit of pushing things up mighty mountains and doubting the great fall again…
loose cannons fired at will…
aim at everything near to get my fill…
I’ve flooded the trenches…
I’ve bloodied the hills…
I’ve scattered the ashes and shattered all goodwill…
as a matter of fact I have a habit of halving things into tiny pieces and
immediately pining for the whole again…