3. Proxy Gods

(Verse 1) Another talking head, another poisoned well They sell you fear and fury, a fabricated hell A signature on paper, a handshake in the dark And somewhere else a young man leaves his final spark They talk of flags and glory, of honor and of pride While safe inside their marble halls, they have nowhere to hide The chessboard's set in shadows, the pieces are alive They whisper "sacrifice" and watch the masses dive (Chorus) Puppet strings are pulling, the master's hand is still They'll never see the crater, they'll never feel the chill Of mud and blood and silence, in a ditch without a name The fire they are feeding will never touch their flame Puppet strings are pulling, they play their twisted game And all the world's a stage for their deceit and shame (Verse 2) They've never held a rifle, they've never felt the frost They've never heard the final breath of someone that they lost For them it's just a number, a column on a screen A temporary problem, a dirty, gray routine Their sons are in the boardrooms, with futures bright and clean While other mothers' children are dying in a ravine They fund the hate and chaos with calculated grace And hide behind the curtain, a smile on their face (Chorus) Puppet strings are pulling, the master's hand is still They'll never see the crater, they'll never feel the chill Of mud and blood and silence, in a ditch without a name The fire they are feeding will never touch their flame Puppet strings are pulling, they play their twisted game And all the world's a stage for their deceit and shame (Bridge) They speak of "necessary war," of "sacred, righteous might" They never see the nightmares that are born in endless night They're building golden towers on a foundation made of bone And when the storm is over, they'll be sitting on their throne But history is written, not just in ink and gold It's etched in every scar and in the stories that are told And the strings they think they're holding—one day they'll feel the pull When the silence breaks the system and the towers are full (Guitar solo - chaotic, shredding, with dissonant bends) (Chorus - final, with added intensity) Puppet strings are pulling, the master's hand is still They'll never see the crater, they'll never feel the chill Of mud and blood and silence, in a ditch without a name The fire they are feeding will never touch their flame Puppet strings are pulling, they play their twisted game And all the world's a stage for their deceit and shame (Outro - spoken, over fading, distorted chords) The hand that pulls the strings... Is never clean. And the ones who dance... They never learn to scream.