We are buying into something we say we don't want a part of And we're all trying to put our fingers on emotions we can't place And we're all dying from those things we put into our bodies And we're all lying to ourselves when we say it's all coming together
So let's burn down those bridges and grow into our britches And rip out painful stitches And make beauty for the sake of sanity
And let's mark our territories and get good at telling stories About our long-strived glories that aren't true But sure as hell resemble the truth And let's go to the art walk and bring our box cutters And we'll cut those mother fuckers that wear the wrong gang colors We'll go to The Loft at Fifth Roosevelt And set it up like the carter projects And show those fuckers hell And we must wash the taste of blood out of our teeth.