Waiting For The End - Hands Held High [Live in Copenhagen 2015]
This is not the end, this is not the beginning Just a voice like a riot rocking every revision But you listen to the tone and the violent rhythm And though the words sound steady something empty's within them We say yeah with fists flying up in the air Like we're holding onto something that's invisible there 'Cause we're living at the mercy of the pain and the fear Until we get it, forget it, let it all disappear
Turn my mic up louder I got to say something Lightweights step it aside when we come in
Feel it in your chest the syllables get pumping People on the street they panic and start running
Words on loose leaf sheet complete coming I jump in my mind and summon the rhyme, I'm dumping
Healing the blind I promise to let the sun in Sick of the dark ways we march to the drum and
Jump when they tell us that they wanna see jumping Fuck that I wanna see some fists pumping
Risk something, take back what's yours Say something that you know they might attack you for
Cause I'm sick of being treated like I have before Like it's stupid standing for what I'm standing for
Like this war's really just a different brand of war Like it doesn't cater to rich and abandon poor
Like they understand you in the back of the jet When you can't put gas in your tank
And these fuckers are laughing their way to the bank and cashing the check Asking you to have compassion and have some respect
For a leader so nervous in an obvious way Stuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replay
And the rest of the world watching at the end of the day In their living room laughing like "What did he say?"
[Chorus:] Amen Amen Amen Amen Amen
In my living room watching but I am not laughing Cause when it gets tense I know what might happen
The world is cold the bold men take action Have to react or get blown into fractions
Ten years old it's something to see Another kid my age drug under a jeep
Taken and bound and found later under a tree I wonder if he had thought the next one could be me
Do you see the soldiers they're out today They brush the dust from bullet proof vests away
It's ironic at times like this you pray But a bomb blew the mosque up yesterday
There's bombs on the buses, bikes, roads Inside your market, your shops, your clothes
My dad he's got a lot of fear I know But enough pride inside not to let that show
My brother had a book he would hold with pride A little red cover with a broken spine
On the back he hand-wrote a quote inside, "When the rich wage war it's the poor who die."