3 am and they're at your door Your chest feels like it's collapsing Coked out in your uniform One hand on your service weapon They will kill you for what you owe So show them what you're made of You taste death, Love and rejection Take a breath High off the action Everyone fucks it up It's all distraction Someone else cleans it up It's all redacted now Back on the job there's something not quite intact Your sources aren't even flexing The dope is all second hand You wonder who they're protecting There's a file with your name attached Is that what you're afraid of? You taste death Lies and corruption Take what's left It's better than nothing Everyone gets a cut It's off the record Maybe you've had enough Collect your pension Twenty four hundred miles No extradition Liquid and versatile Beyond conviction now