The CriminalStay away from the criminalThe jester, the imbecileAvoid the one who carries aBomb between his teethI don’t know, that’s what mother saidWe have everything he’s never hadKeep your distanceFrom the bad exampleDad predicts he’ll end up behind barsRumors fly on kitesSlicing through his earsBack and forth between his eyesButHe wasn’t a criminalOr a jesterOr an imbecileHis faults were our ownWe accused him of knivesThat we threw ourselvesGather around,Let us watch the blood splatterOn the scapegoat’s ears and heartLet him collapseUnder what we’ve tagged him withA bad exampleA delinquentA failureA freakHe was a teacherHe was a friendAnd he was everything we never hadBut one look at his labelsAnd we would all turn backRun away from the criminalThe jesterThe imbecileAnd now he’s running out the doorIf the names kill the boyThey’ll blame all on himThey’ll know it isn’t trueBut that’s
ProtestTwenty-four hoursSeven days a weekWe’ll be like silent machinesNo one wants to hear us speakBreak the young bird’s wingsAnd dam every drop of waterThey want to know what you think?It’s a lie. So why botherFour in the morningWavering on the edge of sleepMinds flowing with informationThat’s too much to keepAnd the deadline’s so closeWe just want to be freeEveryone’s breaking down among usBut we’re not sure if you really seeOn the first steps of summerAnd facing so-called vacationOur hearts sink as we’re forcedTo proceed to life’s next stationYou squeeze us into the worldAnd punish us when we protestAren’t we all just bricks in the wallRobots with no thoughts, no rest
WarIsn’t it funnyHow we choose our sidesAnd get our bullets and knivesTo go kill menWho could be our brothersThen start a new battle from victoryAnd yet another one from loss?
Walk A Thousand MilesWalk a thousand milesThrough jungle and through roadIt’s the only thing you know how to do nowBecause you’ve walked a thousand milesBut really, to where?Maybe back home, but that’s a memoryTo your sisters in heaven--but how?The only place to go is to blood countryWhere the living dead gnaw on the deadYou return to blood countryThey call you comrade, then cut off your headMusic that plays endlessly, deceivinglyTo hide the sounds of cracking skullsYou try to be strong like a proper soldierAnd tell yourself you can fightBut in the end, you know you’re just bait