when the last of the opium ran dry...

 

               when the last of the opium ran dry,
       what was left to keep the populous at bay?

                   bullets and
         hand-grenades

                    smoke
                          and fear

pushed into the street
pushed into every cleft

               and crevice
of the brain.

                         O hold still
                  hold still

                we've honed it nearly
                     to a science -  

                 hold still
                        hold still

              it'll only hurt
                 if you fight it.