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My Rifle Doesn't Lie
I crush this burden deep inside me.
The pain is buried in foreign sand.
The sound of distant memories cracking-
grinding down on who I am.

Forge my sword, the writing is on the wall!
It's on this land that war comes after me.
I have no home, no refuge from it all.
There are no illusions, no lies, no lasting peace.

The rifle doesn't lie. It speaks volumes of brave men.
I have a solution wrapped in my bloody hand so tight.
There is war on our doorstep while the puppets pretend it's all alright. 
I am screaming for action reaching the end. 
It's been a race from the past into what comes next.

The lights are out and the glass is broken.
Cities bleeding hatred throughout the night.
Oh! The marionettes have spoken.
And they laugh! They laugh! They lie!

My rifle doesn't lie. It has spoken volumes for me. 
I have cracks in my soul filled by the blood and mud at my feet. 
There is war on the horizon with no heroes to praise. 
Hang medals on my chest as a tribute to shame.
And call out to angels, call out to devils, call in all of your useless favors. 
Because when the winds turn cold I will meet you in the snow with a rifle in my hand, 
a fight to the death on desert sand, a battle for my freedom on the Plains of this Land.
According to BLM, you can't be white after Labor Day.
Nice and pretty deep. 

I like it. I have heard this term before " My rifle doesn't lie" . I am not military, but thinking of a movie. 

Good job !

The Truth is Out There, Somewhere

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