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Petites cloches

de Energie des Arbres

Tongues of ash
Drip from marble mouths
Suits with paper spines
Draw skulls on the maps

Knuckles on the launch codes
Hands that shake like glass
Preach of holy fire
From bunkers built to last

You want the war
You're not ready for the heat
Pray for the blast
But you're scared of burned teeth

You want the fire
Can't face the marching dead
Thermonuclear cowards
Crown of rust on your head

Children trade their lunches
For plastic soldiers
Guns
Old men trade their children
For glory songs half-sung

Dream of cities melting
While your stocks go green
But every ghost you bargain
Comes crawling through your screen

You want the war
You're not ready for the heat
Pray for the blast
But you're scared of burned teeth

You want the fire
Can't face the marching dead
Thermonuclear cowards
Crown of rust on your head

Drop
Drop
Drop
(You choke on the word)
Burn
Burn
Burn
(But you fear to be first)

Every button you touch
Is a mirror you break
See your own soft flesh
In every life you take

You want the war
You're not ready for the heat
Pray for the blast
But you're scared of burned teeth

You want the fire
Can't face the marching dead
Thermonuclear cowards
Crown of rust on your head

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