David Sylvian

He knows well his wicked ways
A course of bitterness
A grudge held from his childhood days
As if life had loved him less
Reading down his list of names
He ticks them one by one
He points the barrel at the sky
Firing shots off at the sun
"i am the law and I am the king
I am the wisdom, listen to me sing"
He carves out the victims names
In the wooden butt of the gun
He leans well back against the tree
He knows his kingdoms come
Hell breath a sigh self satisfied
The work is in good hands