Do you know what they meant
When they said
The pen is mightier than the sword?
They didn't mean it would end wars
They didn't mean it would usher in peace
They didn't mean it would resurrect the dead
Do you know what they meant?
The wars would lurch down the throat of humanity
The idea of peace would be all about mere doves and mortal olives
The dead would still be dead; a piling heap of rotting carcasses
For, who holds the sword will never know what it feels to hold a pen
For, who holds the pen will never yield to the grit of steel
The world still bleeds
This time worse than before
The sword cuts you open
The pen plucks through the insides
Death isn't about gory bloodbaths anymore; death is dark poetic
Do you know what they meant
When they said
The pen is mightier than the sword?
They didn't mean life would be simpler
They didn't mean love would heal it all
What would life be if it was all so simple
What would love be if it didn't kill us a bit more one more time
The steel of swords wither to the rust
The pen remains, the ink remains
The wounds from an assault; the wounds heal to scars
The papercuts of a tarnished novel; can band-aids fix them
Life isn't about dreams and beating hearts anymore; life is dark romantic
Do you know what they meant
When they said
The pen is mightier than the sword?
The sword kills you once
The sword kills you once and for all
The pen kills you once
The pen kills you once, once more, and once again
Every time only enough to be left with sufficient life
To bleed again, one more time, one last time
Sobhraj is as much a hero as is Bukowski
When they said
The pen is mightier than the sword?
They didn't mean it would end wars
They didn't mean it would usher in peace
They didn't mean it would resurrect the dead
Do you know what they meant?
The wars would lurch down the throat of humanity
The idea of peace would be all about mere doves and mortal olives
The dead would still be dead; a piling heap of rotting carcasses
For, who holds the sword will never know what it feels to hold a pen
For, who holds the pen will never yield to the grit of steel
The world still bleeds
This time worse than before
The sword cuts you open
The pen plucks through the insides
Death isn't about gory bloodbaths anymore; death is dark poetic
Do you know what they meant
When they said
The pen is mightier than the sword?
They didn't mean life would be simpler
They didn't mean love would heal it all
What would life be if it was all so simple
What would love be if it didn't kill us a bit more one more time
The steel of swords wither to the rust
The pen remains, the ink remains
The wounds from an assault; the wounds heal to scars
The papercuts of a tarnished novel; can band-aids fix them
Life isn't about dreams and beating hearts anymore; life is dark romantic
Do you know what they meant
When they said
The pen is mightier than the sword?
The sword kills you once
The sword kills you once and for all
The pen kills you once
The pen kills you once, once more, and once again
Every time only enough to be left with sufficient life
To bleed again, one more time, one last time
Sobhraj is as much a hero as is Bukowski
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