Rip it up, tear it down; who will own this fight? Spitting bombs across the great divide Sent arrows, broken arrows, flaming arrows Right into the heart of the city tonight Apocalyptic pockmarks on the stretched-out soul Of a city now a monstrous canker, behold The billowing smoke against the twilight sky While the innocent suffer, weep, and cry out There is nothing more this time Just the stench of a rank decay! There is nothing more this time And what price are you willing to pay?
Tell me, does your end justify the means? Scythe in hand, we reap what sprung from bitter seeds Tell me, will our hands ever be clean?
There is nothing more this time Just the stench of a rank decay! There is nothing more this time And what price are you willing to pay? The wicked sleep in their split-level homes Content with the lies they're fed and doing what they're told Living lives of excess with paranoid minds Terror wrought in their name, and yet inherently blind
Rip it up, tear it down, what burden this fight? Talking heads spew forth manufactured lies And the zombie consumers work nine to five While this fatal infraction eclipses the light Apocalyptic pockmarks on a stretched-out soul Of a city now a monstrous canker, behold The billowing smoke against a twilight sky While the innocent suffer, weep, and cry out
Tell me, does your end justify the means? Scythe in hand, we reap what sprung from bitter seeds Tell me, will our hands ever be clean?