I hit the cul-de-sac on the spiritual path

Retraced my steps back home

But the house burned down before I got there

And I found myself alone

I tried to keep things in perspective

As I hunted down the perpetrator

Loaded up my toolkit with every hateful instrument

Now here we are thirty years later

I've been up and down the buffet several different times

I'm adjusting my focus, I'm getting into knives

I sought wisdom from the sages

Consulted with master tacticians

Met up with some guys who wouldn't tell me their last names

They specialized in non-conventional munitions

Stayed on the scent like a bloodhound

Followed the trail where it led

Taste of hot ashes on my tongue all day

I took my rifle with me to bed

But I'm getting into knives

It's a gift to be simple, it's a gift to be free

Held to my vision all these days

Well, stray signals kept flooding the switchboard

Came all this way for hunger

May I be worthy of my reward

I stood at the door, and I listened

Rustled through my rucksack as quiet as I could

You can't give me back what you've taken

But you can give me something that's almost as good

I am getting into knives

Behold, I stand at the door, and I knock, and then I knock twice