one thousand knives in backs one thousand true 'til deaths saying the same thing over and over lives contradicting the label they give themselves when in passing the torch did we kill the flame? different place and a different time its the same face and the same rhyme regurgitate jargon the backwash of the kids before no substance, empty words, and content with nothing more fading convictions replaced with the status quo beliefs traded for comfortable acceptance different place and a different time it's the same face and the same rhyme who can go against the crowd when the crowd is forced into the same mold when will we start to think for ourselves this scene can't save your soul