To the thoughts of the many from the minds of the few Voice of reason, censored view The truth is the News and the News is the truth As if that'll do as a lame excuse for Killing the slavers, taking the slaves Burying the dead, then robbing the graves Stealing the modesty from heroes brave Making the tears gush like waves Ch: Deadeye watches, still the killing carries on To the rhythm of the gunfire and the voices of concern Deadeye claims to be some conscience for us all But I was never born to be some fly upon the wall Window dressing and the tinsel wreath Stealing the pity and the widow's grief Sentimental with a furrowed brow Pinning the heart on the blooded sleeve Ch: Deadeye watches, still the killing carries on . . . And yes I've crouched beneath the glow - dazzled by it all But this is not the world I know or people I recall. To the thoughts of the many from the minds of the few: Voice of reason, censored view A little knowledge is a dangerous thing Here is the butterfly, here's the wing Ch: Deadeye watches, still the killing carries on . . .