| You can hate all the others
|
| Because they hate you
|
| They hate the thought of you hating them too
|
| We can scream it all out
|
| Till we’re red white or blue
|
| But I’d hate to think
|
| That thinking is old news
|
| Old news
|
| We can cut it in half
|
| Throw rocks in the streets
|
| Let wild eyes laugh
|
| When some disagree
|
| We can burn it all down
|
| On our grandpa’s TV
|
| Or quit pointing fingers
|
| And roll up our sleeves
|
| And pray for miss liberty
|
| And the crack in her bell
|
| There’s a tear in her eye
|
| But her arm hasn’t fell
|
| Yet the weight of that torch
|
| It depends on the trail
|
| The book that we write
|
| And the stories we’ll tell
|
| Cause I’d hate to think
|
| That you think I hate you
|
| And I hate the thought of you hating me too
|
| So let’s hash it all out
|
| Till we’re red white and blue
|
| Cause I’d hate to think
|
| That thinking is old news
|
| Old news
|
| So let’s sing for miss liberty
|
| And the crack in her bell
|
| There’s a tear in her eye
|
| But her arm hasn’t fell
|
| Yet the weight of that torch
|
| Comes with blood that’s been spilled
|
| A book of blank pages
|
| Waiting to be filled with how
|
| I’d hate to think
|
| That you think I’d hate
|
| You and I hate the thought of you hating me too
|
| So let’s hash it all out
|
| Till we’re red white and blue
|
| Cause I’d hate to think
|
| That thinking is old news
|
| Old news
|
| Old news |