3 am and they’re at your door
Your chest feels like it’s collapsing
Coked out in your uniform
One hand on your service weapon

They will kill you for what you owe
So show them what you’re made of

You taste death
Love and rejection
Take a breath
High off the action
Everyone fucks it up
It’s all distraction
Someone else cleans it up
It’s all redacted now

Back on the job there’s something not quite intact
Your sources aren’t even flexing
The dope is all second hand
You wonder who they’re protecting

There’s a file with your name attached
Is that what you’re afraid of?

You taste death
Lies and corruption
Take what’s left
It’s better than nothing
Everyone gets a cut
It’s off the record
Maybe you’ve had enough
Collect your pension
Twenty four hundred miles
No extradition
Liquid and versatile
Beyond conviction now