Thompson submachine gun

Lyrics

I was drafted for the mud of the Argonne
A heavy broom to sweep the wire and the trench
Waiting for the orders at the dawn
But the ink dried up and left me on the bench
I never saw the khaki or the rain

His hand locks to my walnut grip before his mind decides the target
He is shaking from the bootlegger's nerves
We idle by a warehouse by the market
I do the math on how a bullet curves
Fifty rounds in the drum, spinning blind
This isn't duty. It's just accounting.

I was afraid of the velvet
I was terrified of the case
I was made to break an empire
Now I'm hiding my face
In the back of a Packard, smelling of gin
I wanted a war, but you gave me a sin

Ten point eight pounds unloaded, I am heavy with intent
Engineered to save a soldier in the dark
But my blued steel and my balance have been spent
On a shadow in an alley by the park
You dress me up in pinstripes and pomade
I am a patriot, demoted to a trade

They gave me a nickname, a machine for the office
Click-clack on the pavement, spelling out greed
The trigger is heavy, the muzzle climbs upward
I was built for a terrible need
But you made me a headline. You made me a star.

And I am afraid of the velvet
I am terrified of the case
I was made to break an empire
Now I'm hiding my face
In the back of a Packard, smelling of gin
I wanted a war, but you gave me a sin

I don't want the camera
I don't want the screen
Take me out of this plush little box
Let me be what I mean
Just a tool in the dirt
Not a character in your play