![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
:
we were raised to be just what we are...in case you didn't know. if i offered up to you some proof would you let you anger show? or would you let your mind to sleep? kept warm by simple novelties? a history that's really not your own. is freedom just the privilege of hatred guaranteed? is compassion just a second thought of hope brought to its knees? can dignity see fit to work past all it doesn't want to be?
seven guns for degradation. three cheers for cruel tradition. red, white, and black eyes forever.
somewhere south of respect tonight this tension's wrapped up nice and tight. the static's heard but never makes a sound. a man finds nothing left to eat, another sells his body for a place to sleep, and klansmen flood a conference hall downtown. this tv has the answers. let fashion have your eyes. this job is your achievement. this bible is your pride. can dignity see fit to try and fix what it knows fear can't hide?
i think of a story my father told me about a fellow he knew in the army. the pentagon traded him checks for both his legs. "fuck the states" was the last thing father heard he had said. and still it's sad that this war was won, but i refuse to be just another dead nation's bastard son.
i have eyes that see, i have a mind that thinks, i have a mouth that speaks - and god dammit, it will. i've had enough of all this shit about making due, playing ball, the way things are and dealing with it. mixing pop and politics, he asks me what the use is. i'm not into making excuses and i'll die the day i find that i'm fucking useless.
seven guns for degradation. three cheers for cruel tradition. red, white, and black eyes forever.
somewhere south of respect tonight this tension's wrapped up nice and tight. the static's heard but never makes a sound. a man finds nothing left to eat, another sells his body for a place to sleep, and klansmen flood a conference hall downtown. this tv has the answers. let fashion have your eyes. this job is your achievement. this bible is your pride. can dignity see fit to try and fix what it knows fear can't hide?
i think of a story my father told me about a fellow he knew in the army. the pentagon traded him checks for both his legs. "fuck the states" was the last thing father heard he had said. and still it's sad that this war was won, but i refuse to be just another dead nation's bastard son.
i have eyes that see, i have a mind that thinks, i have a mouth that speaks - and god dammit, it will. i've had enough of all this shit about making due, playing ball, the way things are and dealing with it. mixing pop and politics, he asks me what the use is. i'm not into making excuses and i'll die the day i find that i'm fucking useless.