Never Shoot the Pilot

(You were always) counting backwards from never.
So rigid, but claiming freedom
So uninformed, but boasting of your intelligence

So frigid, with a playful look in your eye
You want to inspire, but fail to amaze.

Chewing iron doesn't make you half or whole a man
Fingers reaching, gloves stretching, but not feeling
(The) time has come to spit (out) the cancer we've been hiding in our cheeks.
That, or call our bluffs.
We'll take our turns: to swallow... or to choke.