Socket bayonet

Lyrics

I was born for the end of the argument.

I ride the hot iron while the black powder spits
A passenger locked on the rim of the noise
I watch the smoke settle where the lead bullet hits
And the lines break apart into terrified boys
You feed the pan, you ram the ball down
I am just the dead weight at the edge of the frame
But I feel your hands shaking when the volley burns out

I don't fear the fire, I don't fear the rust
I fear the quiet when the ammunition is gone
When the roaring stops and the musket is just
A heavy oak stick that you're leaning on
That is the moment you twist me in place
And trade in the distance to look at a face

Slide over the muzzle, a ninety-degree turn
I let the gun breathe where the older ones choked
Seventeen inches of three-cornered steel
Waiting my turn in the sulfurous smoke
Your shoulder locks tight, the panic takes hold
And your brain just forgets that I am not bone
We are one plunging thing in the freezing cold

I don't fear the fire, I don't fear the rust
I fear the quiet when the ammunition is gone
When the roaring stops and the musket is just
A heavy oak stick that you're leaning on
That is the moment you twist me in place
And trade in the distance to look at a face

At a hundred yards, it's geometry and luck
A flash in the pan and a body drops down
But when the flint breaks and the hammer gets stuck
I am the intimacy you drag through the ground

I have to feel the rib cage. I have to know the cost.

So pray for the powder.
Pray for the spark to catch.
Because if the barrel goes completely silent
It means we are walking into the dark
And the man running toward us
Has a shadow just like mine.