Cut

Cut to the quick.

Cut to the bone.

Cuts on the sick.

Cuts on their homes.

Cut to the chase.

Cut to the core.

Cuts on their face.

Blood on the floor.

Give me my cut

Give me my due

Give me enough but

Nothing for you

Cut out the nonsense

Cut out the lies

Cut off the weak

Cut off their cries

Give me my cut

Give to us few

Give all I want 

For them not a sou

Cut to the shot

Cut on my cue

Cut out the rot

To whom nothing is due

Give me my cut

Give me what's right

Give me a beacon

I'll cut off their light

Cut off the many

Just make them pay

Don't give them any

It's mine anyway

Cut off their hope

Cut out their heart

Just give me my cut

I need a fresh start

Cut them all down
Like so many trees
They make no sound
When they cease to be

Cut them a break
No that's not the way
Give them no voice
They've nothing to say

Cut to the quick.

Cut to the bone.

It makes me sick.

To call this my home.