Lyricist . . .

Rhetoric can't raise the dead
I'm sick of always talking when there's no change
Rhetoric can't raise the dead
I'm sick of empty words
Let's lead
Not follow

Late night
Brakes lock
Hear the tires squeal
Red light
Can't stop
So I spin the wheel
My world goes black
Before I feel an angel
Steal me from the greedy jaws of death and chance
And pull me in with steady hands
Giving me a second chance
The artist in the ambulance