My life's an inconclusive statement.
I'd die twice before I'd choose to brave this
space in which we occupy, pray and wish but not defy.
Modified to walk in line and live in the allotted time.
I've gotta climb so I'm readying senses.
Threatening fences while discrediting endless.
Nothings what it seems to be,
I'm shrugging off my decency so easily and sheepishly.
A piece of me, a sleepless dream.
I've recently discovered, everything's finite.
I've got my life, but lost my eyesight in a knife fight for right.
Why write then, when its so open ended?
Hope intended, broke and bent it,
spoken splendid so we'll lend it
to whoever can enjoy it.
With a poisoned employment dying to exploit this
destroyed ship that's sinking rapidly and actually
it's a masterpiece of casualties drinking death happily.
Capturing the tragedy of the American Dream,
when all the heroin fiends don't even care what it means.
Deceiving me to see the sea of scenes so freakishly,
machines that bleed into the scenery deceitfully.
Feed the weeds, let em get taller then the house.
Then burn it down to the ground and don't douse it out.
The only way to take a stand is to make them take a seat.
The only way to break a man is to make them say they're free.
The only way I'll ever get heard from my poor mouth,
is if I take a bomb right into the courthouse.
The only way to go is to kill your radio,
while aging slow to all your favorite shows.
The only way to keep dreaming is eyes sewn shut,
but no one is sleeping until this buildings blown up.
We don't want restitution, just a revolution.
A resolution that won't require execution.
I met this human who forgot who he was.
Got caught up in the buzz, lost thoughts, lost blood.
We talked once, he said he'd bought his placement.
He loved to be wasted, fuck moderation.
Loves his nation and says he's patriotic.
Which is probably true, cause he helped make it toxic.
Pay it off quick, run from the interest rates.
No one in charge of this place has ever been an inmate.
When they convict you, get a grip soon.
Find the nearest cop car and throw a brick through
the window then go somewhere close and party.
Write another cliche song called Anarchy.
We're all disgruntled punk kids
who stumbled in with drunk fists.
We grew up on dumb shit and left with our tongues clipped.