Old Guns

And the little boy stared, into the eyes of the night
Button collects price of his time
Little girl glared, sheets of the denial
Bullet connects to the price of her crime

What have we said, wasn't in their bed
What of presence haven't we paid penance

Now, the little boy sees through the eyes of delight
Levers erect note of his rhyme
Little girl bled, sheets of the night
Lovers connect to the price of his dime

What have we said, wasn't in their bed
What of presence haven't we paid penance
To the old guns, and moved on
To the old guns, and moved on
To the old guns, and moved on
To the new guns, to the new guns

What have we said, wasn't it their bed
What of presence haven't we paid penance
What have we said, wasn't it their bed
What of presence haven't we paid penance
To the old guns, and moved on
To the old guns, and moved on
To the old guns, and moved on
To the new guns, to the new guns