Post by Sparks on May 22, 2005 6:28:42 GMT -8
A fist fight in an empty street leaves me wondering if there’s more to this than what I’ve been told. Is this what I’ve been trained for? Around here, heroes become villains in the blink of an eye. It’s a strange cold, with blood running down my chin. Friends become enemies, and not even the wealthiest win. Cracked concrete and shadows longer than highways set your standards. Why do we go to sleep the same way every night? I couldn’t live like this for anything less than what I need to survive. In trying to find a way out I stumbled across the truth that there’s really no right direction when you’re starving through your youth. Trust no one. Question everything.
Borders, classes, nations, they don’t mean a thing. They are names and numbers for which I won’t sing. I could be you if I wanted, but I believe in an art form that is for and by the people; the streets, they’re the canvas while our footprints are the ink.
We should be throwing our fists to the skies instead of at each other, because united we can do anything. Divided we don’t matter. Together we can give ourselves a future.
My world is more than just a faded street in the dead of night. It’s more than that sinking stomach ache and the dim lamp lights. It’s more than bloody lips and redundant fights. I learned about a world where everybody gets along and holds each others’ hands in the air. Everybody sings along and no one has to pretend they care.
And the watercolours are our revolutionary dreams, as we charge off into the sunset. We keep on going because we know there’s a way out.
A new way out.
Borders, classes, nations, they don’t mean a thing. They are names and numbers for which I won’t sing. I could be you if I wanted, but I believe in an art form that is for and by the people; the streets, they’re the canvas while our footprints are the ink.
We should be throwing our fists to the skies instead of at each other, because united we can do anything. Divided we don’t matter. Together we can give ourselves a future.
My world is more than just a faded street in the dead of night. It’s more than that sinking stomach ache and the dim lamp lights. It’s more than bloody lips and redundant fights. I learned about a world where everybody gets along and holds each others’ hands in the air. Everybody sings along and no one has to pretend they care.
And the watercolours are our revolutionary dreams, as we charge off into the sunset. We keep on going because we know there’s a way out.
A new way out.
