The Bottom Rung

Don't tell me that I'm wrong
I know the path that I am walking
Trailing entrails, bloody-handed, bodies underfoot
Don't tell me to turn back
Or that the price of hate will haunt me
I harbor no illusions that these hands were made for good

I've sunk too far for your words to reach me
And there's nothing worth my while here that death couldn't teach me
Take an eye for an eye, but you will find no children here
Only fire burning brighter than the broken taste of fear

And if justice is blind, then I'm halfway there
Call me what you like, but I really don't care

Bring you down to the bottom rung, going-doing-done
Maybe I'll never win the war, but you'd better run
Bring you down to the bottom rung, tell me was it fun?
Doing what can never be undone?

Now the god of this city watches over my shoulder
Says that he'll abide as long as I do what I'm told
And as the hand of the divine, all his enemies are mine
So if you're here make a monster of me, come and get in line

And it's a lonely fight, but I'll carry it along
'Cause the fire in this hungry heart won't rest until you're gone
I still see you in my dreams and I still wake up to their screams
I dream of killing you but half the time I dream I'm killing me

So if justice is blind, then I'm halfway there
Call me what you like, but I really don't care

Bring you down to the bottom rung, going-doing-done
Maybe I'll never win the war, but you'd better run
Bring you down to the bottom rung, are we having fun?
Karma's calling, falling down to one

And I'll wear your face like a trophy
And I'll watch as they turn around to run
And I'll taste your blood like a memory
Tell me, when does it feel like I'm done?

Bound down to the bottom rung, tell me have I won?
Bloodlust fading in the sun, sour on the tongue
Bound down to the bottom rung, but we're never done
Knowing there is nowhere left to run
Knowing there is nowhere left to run
Knowing there is nowhere left to run
Knowing there is nowhere left to run...

So...
Don't tell me that I'm wrong
I know the path that I am walking
Trailing entrails, bloody-handed, bodies underfoot
Don't tell me I'll regret it
That the price of hate will haunt me
I harbor no delusions that these hands are doing good