Silent Fang

Too many handshakes carry a blade,

Too many compliments looking for shade.

So I cut off the feed,

put the phone on the desk,

If they want to see failure,

I’ll give 'em a rest.

Let the grass grow high while I sharpen the steel,

(shhhh) They don't need to know what is real.

When the harvest is done and the field is wiped clean,

They’ll see the machine.