The Quiet Manufacturer[music]Wax Wraith

(Verse 1) A white flag waving in a garden of lead Feeding the wolves while the sheep are being fed "Non-intervention" is the script that we read But we’re sharpening the blades for the hands that will bleed. The temple is silent, the incense is high But the smoke in the distance is darkening the sky We sell the "solutions" to problems we toast While playing the martyr, the priest, and the ghost. (Chorus) It’s a clean-handed war, a velvet-lined cell Buying our heaven by financing hell The ink is a shield, the paper’s a sword A "Pacifist" title that we can’t afford. Exporting the thunder, importing the grace A ghost in the machine with a saint’s weary face. (Verse 2) Strictly "defensive," or so goes the lie As we loosen the knots and we let the birds fly Clipped wings for the victims, but jet fuel for the strong Righteousness sings such a convenient song. The "Standard" is double, the mirror is cracked A moral departure in a physical pact We keep our soil spotless, our conscience so white While fueling the engines that burn through the night. (Verse 3) The "Grave Concern" is a currency now A polite little nod and a formal-tier bow But the ledger is heavy with iron and gold And the "Principles" are the first thing that’s sold. We’re the silent partner in a loud, bloody trade Polishing the trigger that someone else made A statue of salt in a rainstorm of hate The "Neutral" bystander who’s deciding the fate.