Hands Down in Your Pockets Songtext
von Jeremy Ivey

A flower turns to rotten words
The morning sky grows dim
The papers all eat themselves
And everything′s a sin
A skeleton man with a flesh pen
He signs his golden name
Upon the wall, like a child's scrawl
Like spirits leave a stain

Holy towns, holy worlds, and holy walking meat
Butchering itself while blood rains in the street
And even a dead man wears a mask
There is no death′s retreat
Just the siren's famous wail
That sings you sweet to sleep


Headless headlines hollow breath
Lead us in that dance of death
And if you think you're not in line
Then you ain′t being honest
The rules come from the top, my friend
They run the world you′re living in
The hypnotist, illusionist
Got hands down in your pockets

There's no trace of Eden here
Where the new martyr bleeds
Guns ring out in a house of God
Like thunder in your feed
And the twisted vines of myth they climb
′Til you can't tell who′s lying
The war gets close and no one knows
For which side they are dying

Smog, and fog, and diamond shit
That shines and makes you ill
Is there one single unbroken heart
Out in the mire still?
Well if there is, then tell me this
How long do you think it takes
Before the divide gets inside
And bleeds it 'til it breaks?


Headless headlines hollow breath
Lead us in that dance of death
And if you think you′re not in line
Then you ain't being honest
The rules come from the top, my friend
They run the world you're living in
The hypnotist, illusionist
Got hands down in your pockets

Tents under the overpass
Broken glass and dread
Passing by, you lock the eye
Turn away the head
And the one percent can pick and chose
The fates of all of us
What′s it like to see the golden rule turning into rust?

Oh, voices voice the void in vain on radios of silence
Like weary waves that push and pull
And give the ships no guidance
As the candles burn and beg the dark to stop its slow descent
Is this the light of conscience?
Oh, tell me where it went

Headless headlines hollow breath
Lead us in that dance of death
And if you think you′re not in line
Then you ain't being honest
The rules come from the top, my friend
They run the world you′re living in
The hypnotist, illusionist
Got hands down in your pockets

Jeff Bezos and Pope Francis
Got hands down in your pockets
Mickey Mouse, the capitalist
Got hands down in your pockets