The last word he said was violence

on a stage which read the words “prove me wrong”

his shirt was white and clean and spoke of freedom

it was red and hard to read when he was gone

oh I’ve got a hole in my bottleneck blues

I’m gettin news that shakes the dust off my father’s .22

I learned in school we used to talk about issues

now they whistle over heads and turn to points in crowded rooms

well, shoot

was it when we first amended silence?

or when we next allowed the tools to make it too?

maybe all the powers gone into the checks

and the balance of the scales is skewed

oh I found a hole in my bottleneck blues

it’s spillin oil so I’ll put it on my father’s .22

I learned in school that old men talk about issues

now they’re turning into points into a head ‘cross crowded

rooms

you can take aim from a building made for science

you can kill a law with enough cool procedure

seems an echo always carries in a crater

seems the bookends always were in amphitheaters

now there’s a hole in my bottleneck blues

it’s leakin blood and water into my father’s .22

I saw online that dead men debate issues

but if ya turn em into points into a head

they become true.