Bo staff

Lyrics

[Intro]
I have no fire in my making, no hammer and no spark.
Just a length of heavy oak, slowly curing in the dark.
Sanded by the friction of your palms until I gleam,
I was meant to carry water from the river to the camp.
I was meant to tap the stones where the soil is damp.

[Chorus]
The iron sword was born to take the blame.
It says, "I am a razor, I was made to open veins."
But I have no edge for you to hide behind.
When I crack the ribs, when I shatter the knee,
It is only the pure, unbroken math of your mind.
My terror is how perfectly you flow into me.
I am seventy-one inches of oak. You are the violent thing.

[Verse 2]
Exactly one and a quarter inches at my center girth,
Tapering toward the ends so the balance holds the weight.
When you slide your hands apart, your wrist forgets its shape,
I become the phantom bone swinging through the gate.
I remember the quiet of the forest floor,
Before you figured out what leverage was for.

[Chorus]
The iron sword was born to take the blame.
It says, "I am a razor, I was made to open veins."
But I have no edge for you to hide behind.
When I crack the ribs, when I shatter the knee,
It is only the pure, unbroken math of your mind.
My terror is how perfectly you flow into me.
I am seventy-one inches of oak. You are the violent thing.

[Bridge]
There is no trigger here, no spring to take the fault.
No powder to ignite and fill the air with smoke.
Just velocity, and the sudden pivot of your spine,
The hollow thud of something giving way beneath the stroke.
If I crush a skull today on this dusty road,
I will still just be a stick when you lay down the load.

[Outro]
You cannot say I went off.
You cannot say I slipped.
Use me to turn the earth.
Lean on me.
I have no edge.
I have no edge.
But I am heavy.
And you are the one who swings.