Warlord's Blood
This place, less stable than an earthquake
Leaders laugh at struggles, sipping dark red Sicilian
"Where's our newest martyr going?"
Because dead kids don't talk back
But little do they know, he's slipping out
Dug a hole in his cell like he's in Alcatraz
He writes me thoughtful letters, sealed with kisses
Blood of a warlord, said his grandfather's name is known
He thinks I don't remember poor sweet Giorgio
But that's fine, I suppose, he's only looking out for me
I'll sit beside him on the leather throne one day
But dead kids can't tell stories, can they?
So, he's been staying extra hidden
That way when the guards look over their shoulders
They see nothing more than a cloud of movement
Blocks their vision better than tear gas
God, his grandkid's a genius of a young man
They used to sing about half-hanged Giorgio
Now his family, they're dancing in the limelight
Cherishing those exotic genes, perfect for heroes
Condemned to fates worse than eternal torture
Now, as we escape into the starry sky
And I lean in to kiss him
Giorgio, you've got quite the grandson
Massimo, the love of my horrid life
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