With the cold eye of the soldier and The cold hand of the surgeon and The cold and calculating mind of Someone from Intelligence, I walk along the city street Assa**inating all I meet; My crumpled uniform, once neat, Is now in disarray. Breezes blow my hair at will, Their wayward pa**age to fulfil But they can never pierce the heart And k** the way a deftly wielded Knife, or yet a sharpened barb, Well turned and twisted can succeed; For words will never make you bleed But only fade away. I found this weakness in the heart; Remorselessly tore it apart, But that was when my uniform Was smart and pretty in the glittering springlight; When my words so clear Fell, curdling the bitter beer, And dripped into the waiting ear 'Til silence ruled that day. And when the slaughter was complete, Another fool had found defeat And still my hands were soft and Even sweet inside the glove that played The drumsticks on the soft and kind. It took the military mind To sentence silence as the blind Went tapping on their way