Three Mile Pilot - The Chief Assa**in To The Sinister lyrics

It's out of my hands, been dismissed The knife is on the ground, waiting for a hand Like the mason walls himself in with nothing at the end of the day It's a delicate situation and I'd rather not open (this) the blister Silently we all wait for the roof to come crashing in And somehow overruled has become and begun I can't count the stitches from and since it was severed I can't count the victims in my head Never have I had a candidate so easily devoured Not a faint drizzle of anguish I have no real concern for my consumers But I do prefer disa**embly before the annihilation of these pro's of emotion What do you feel It's out of my hands, been dismissed The knife is on the ground, waiting for a hand What more could you want Only to forget that this knife is on the ground waiting for your hand