| Sometimes even tolerance is void of compassion
|
| So I’ll ask if we can somehow ration
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| Some fashion room for fast action, removal of passion
|
| From the last stand we took against happenstance and
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| Move past the future of perfection with conviction
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| A numbness of remission or retreat of mission
|
| Until we’re fishing for compliments and opposite opinions
|
| And strategically place neglect of excuses
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| I’ve buried enough dreams, I’ve cut out the wrong seams
|
| Stitch up these guts, let’s make us love, let’s make us bleed
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| It’s what we need, conform no facade baby
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| Make me believe it, make me see
|
| It’s fortified past the bonified excuse past the lucid bigotry
|
| I am the composition of notes to a melody
|
| We’re sung by a chorus of familiar sympathy
|
| I’m not worried about singing in key
|
| With the confrontation of conformity
|
| I’m just worried about you listening
|
| I guess I was too much to ask for
|
| I guess I don’t know who I am anymore
|
| I’m sorry, I’m sorry
|
| I am confiding finally
|
| Take this gun from me
|
| I’m not going anywhere until these demons start to leave
|
| I spoke in the tongues of angels, but every floral arrangement
|
| Still didn’t turn human beings back into ideologies
|
| They are all so much less threatening, shielded by the pulpit
|
| A clashing gong doesn’t ring as deep as my pockets seem
|
| With hands buried as far as the east is from the thirsty light
|
| I love social justice just enough to smoke it socially
|
| Like fear is the opposite of love, so let it be a lie regardless
|
| I never knew you or your idol theology
|
| I’m on my broken knees
|
| Begging for your voice to see
|
| I’m on my broken knees
|
| Hoping these demons will finally leave
|
| What if this is all a lie?
|
| What if this is all a lie?
|
| What if this is all a lie?
|
| Then I don’t have to try
|
| Promise me it’s all a lie
|
| Promise me we’re just a lie
|
| Promise me it’s all a lie
|
| It’s all a lie
|
| So I don’t have to try |