Downcast - Hiding in the Limbs

This is a beat. A heartbeat. A dance beat. The sound of life. Chasing and wanting, having and losing, looking and finding, this is the sound of Saturday night. June eleven, warm. Haircuts and workouts. Drinks and dance and looks. Maybe something new tonight. Maybe someone new tonight. I want him to hold me in his arms. White shirt in the low light. His body on top of mine to tell me I'm alive. Tell me I'm alive. This is the sound of common transaction. Cash for a gun and exploding rounds. Tools to serve a thought that no one else can see, he chooses what he thinks and selects what he'll become. This is the sound of chaos and departing. Loss that blackens stars, pain that freezes time. Parent lost, lover lost, child lost, brother lost. The body of a murder hiding in the limbs. This is a beat. A heartbeat. A dance beat. The sound of life. The ceremonies are over. The families will carry on. Now is the time for naming the business hiding in the limbs. Say their names. All of them are hiding. Now is the time for naming the business hiding in the limbs. One of them is Richard Dyke, George Collatides, Scott Blackwell, Steve Feinberg, Jim Marcotuli and Jim Debny. May the families of the dead view you with mercy while the world hopes for an accounting, a self-correction, not a punishment. A self reckoning. Step away. Close the factory doors. Melt down the machines. Hands turned to a purpose not soaked in blood. This is the call of brothers. This is the call of sisters. Children and parentsthis is the call. Name the names of men who's life's work is death. The life work of LaPierre. How can the country not see you now. Yours is the body of a murderer hiding in the limbs.

Written by:
Downcast

Publisher:
Lyrics © Songtrust Ave

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