If memory is smoke, I am a bonfire doused an hour ago
If purpose is an engine, turn my birthright into coal
My temper borne of winter, I know hibernation well
And the longer I must wait for justice, I grow ever hungry in the cold
Grasping at the little I control
I fight the devil with a devil
Making deals, it hardly matters
When you're gambling with worthless things
Like souls and other horrors
Turn my terror into terror
Take from them just what they took from me
It's hard to shoot a pistol when you're looking through a mask
It's hard to see a future when your purpose is your past
If rage and engineering built my legacy of fire
I must sit upon my secret
Name each bullet
Shoot to kill and live to last
Grasping at the little I control
I fight my shadow with an army
— Not the kind that wields my horrors, no
The kind that fights with laughter
And the sunlight of forgiveness
Looks through darkness and decorum
Sees a man, not a monstrosity
If loneliness is prison, every touch is liberation
Love will outshine any antidote where hatred is a poison
And I know good deeds don't guarantee a path to some salvation
But what if rage and engineering turn destruction to creation?
Holding tight to what I can control
I fight my terror with a family
Making deals, the checks and balances, they help me build
A birthright borne of blood and death and winter
Peace hard won, and better justice
I've reclaimed just what they took from me
I've reclaimed just what they took
