So show me your hands are they still stained red with our blood that you chose to shed
It's your business now
Like an open casket we're exposed and on display for all to see but we'll bury ourselves in the confines of our own even though they orbit our entire world keeping tabs and clouding our atmosphere we'll somehow find room to breathe in this air
So show me your hands are they still stained red with our blood that you chose to shed
They'll speculate and debate who committed the crime but what's to say we are not all guilty as hell digging this hole deeper but will we make our own way back to the surface or fall short in trying the runway's clear but no one has thought to guide us into safety