(no subject)
someday, when i'm about to die, i'll look back on days like today, and hate myself.
we must talk in every telephone, get eaten off the web
we must rip out all the epilogues from the books that we have read
and to the face of every criminal strapped firmly in a chair
we must stare, we must stare, we must stare
we must take all of the medicines too expensive now to sell
set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell
and in the ear of every anarchist, that sleeps but doesn't dream
we must sing, we must sing, we must sing
we must talk in every telephone, get eaten off the web
we must rip out all the epilogues from the books that we have read
and to the face of every criminal strapped firmly in a chair
we must stare, we must stare, we must stare
we must take all of the medicines too expensive now to sell
set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell
and in the ear of every anarchist, that sleeps but doesn't dream
we must sing, we must sing, we must sing