And I try to sing this song without falling flat on my face. Cause I know you are just as judgmental as me. And I try to piece it together, but nothing ever completes. The circle of guns and the fear of falling apart.
The isolation is starting to get the best of me. I'm afraid my generation cannot begin to see. The conformity out of fear that we have been preached. And the reward of finding a superficial home.
"Well so long..." say the road and dollar signs, because nothing can breach our corporate driven minds. Like the mines planted in the jungles, discolored in blood red wine. Said, "Hey kid, just move to the back of the line."
And I try to sing this song without falling flat on my face. The guilt washes over me as I relieve my stomach acids. And I try to piece it together, but nothing ever completes. The endless cycle of new faces and the fear of falling apart.
Because we've got something to offer, cause we've got something to say that isn't quite as cliche.