Brass Body
03-17-2013, 06:39 AM
Officer O'Shay (First Verse) - Zygote
Officer O'Malley (Second Verse) - Brass Body
Call me Inspector One, the story begins as I open up a rusted trunk,
Down at the dump, we spent hours rummaging through the junk,
Opened the trunk the body inside stunk like a funk, covered in gunk,
Fuck, I need a drink tonight I’ll get drunk,
I’m too old now, don’t care anymore who did the crime,
Finding out who murdered who just for them to get 10 years inside,
This job turned us cold, disengaged and cynical,
I looked at my partner, the motherfucker looked miserable.
Flashback to my junior days, fresh cadet, going for walks,
Wishing for probable cause, so I could yell “Drop to the floor, I am the Law!”
We made our own rules, without worrying about corrupt officers,
And police ranks filled with these dumb foreigners,
We were all O’Malleys and O’Shays - one big Irish family and such,
And if one of our brothers did something wrong they couldn’t be touched.
But something was off about particular situation and crime investigation,
I noticed many off duty police cars as we neared the destination,
Plus there were rumours going around the police precinct,
Certain high ranking detectives were involved with drug cartel dealings,
Nothing is sacred for them - Extortion, murder, kidnapping, grievous bodily harm,
I looked at the body in the trunk and noticed the gang tattoos on the arm.
My partner kicks his feet, snarls and clenches his teeth,
"isn't the lieutenant's ink awfully significant to these?"
The sign of a blood oath, if he's right, then our guns load,
tonight- we flood roads with the cries of corrupt rogues.
I pass him the twelve gauge, he laughs, but Hell awaits,
strap on a belt of grenades, leave my badge- a rebel today.
O'Shay smiles at me, "hey, it's been awhile O'Malley,"
days of pre-trial shootings, and gangs piled up in alleys.
We were law and order, no words, just gunshots and mortars,
emerged from God and whores... never lost nor sober.
Opened the broken doors, hopeless, they unloaded the storm,
rolled in, throw in four grenades that explode in the swarm.
The sound of battle leaves me deaf, surrounded by shadows of death,
how will the gallows lead my steps, mounted by salvo and stress.
O'Shay falls to both knees, both legs shot and his throat bleeds,
no escape as he holds his piece, I beg knowing he won't retreat.
The agony, apathy, if we had known the plans they entrusted,
a path through a glass muse, ash flows from the shame of puppets.
The strings from our seams, we bleed but for a ruthless shield,
we freeze alone in these streets, just police who refused the deal.
Officer O'Malley (Second Verse) - Brass Body
Call me Inspector One, the story begins as I open up a rusted trunk,
Down at the dump, we spent hours rummaging through the junk,
Opened the trunk the body inside stunk like a funk, covered in gunk,
Fuck, I need a drink tonight I’ll get drunk,
I’m too old now, don’t care anymore who did the crime,
Finding out who murdered who just for them to get 10 years inside,
This job turned us cold, disengaged and cynical,
I looked at my partner, the motherfucker looked miserable.
Flashback to my junior days, fresh cadet, going for walks,
Wishing for probable cause, so I could yell “Drop to the floor, I am the Law!”
We made our own rules, without worrying about corrupt officers,
And police ranks filled with these dumb foreigners,
We were all O’Malleys and O’Shays - one big Irish family and such,
And if one of our brothers did something wrong they couldn’t be touched.
But something was off about particular situation and crime investigation,
I noticed many off duty police cars as we neared the destination,
Plus there were rumours going around the police precinct,
Certain high ranking detectives were involved with drug cartel dealings,
Nothing is sacred for them - Extortion, murder, kidnapping, grievous bodily harm,
I looked at the body in the trunk and noticed the gang tattoos on the arm.
My partner kicks his feet, snarls and clenches his teeth,
"isn't the lieutenant's ink awfully significant to these?"
The sign of a blood oath, if he's right, then our guns load,
tonight- we flood roads with the cries of corrupt rogues.
I pass him the twelve gauge, he laughs, but Hell awaits,
strap on a belt of grenades, leave my badge- a rebel today.
O'Shay smiles at me, "hey, it's been awhile O'Malley,"
days of pre-trial shootings, and gangs piled up in alleys.
We were law and order, no words, just gunshots and mortars,
emerged from God and whores... never lost nor sober.
Opened the broken doors, hopeless, they unloaded the storm,
rolled in, throw in four grenades that explode in the swarm.
The sound of battle leaves me deaf, surrounded by shadows of death,
how will the gallows lead my steps, mounted by salvo and stress.
O'Shay falls to both knees, both legs shot and his throat bleeds,
no escape as he holds his piece, I beg knowing he won't retreat.
The agony, apathy, if we had known the plans they entrusted,
a path through a glass muse, ash flows from the shame of puppets.
The strings from our seams, we bleed but for a ruthless shield,
we freeze alone in these streets, just police who refused the deal.