A temperamental widower

We're not going backwards We're not going backwards We're just killing onward, today And put that knife away! My first thought, a dragon My first thought, a dragon Two contending marches And put that knife away! She'll sting you to death Like a swarm of hornets From the hive Endlessly I drift Into this distraction Sign my name to shame Press hard, there are three copies You'll put me in the grave You'll put me in the grave We're not going backwards We're not going backwards We're just killing onward, today Put that knife away! And put that knife away! Making progress like that of a dead man Constant last words the last word. The last words