Stained Glass Ceilings

歌詞

Like a burning monk You're my light flare out in the dark You're my constant call to arms Took the blindfold off They'd left chalk outlines where the future was It's a god-damned war of attrition It's a death by a thousand cuts And if these motherfuckers made it to heaven They'd burn the bridge when they got across They're getting their anchors, they're gathering rope You're pushing to heaven all alone They're grabbing your ankles, they won't let you go The ebb and the distant flow They're cutting your wings off Built your ceilings out of stained glass You're caught Like gravel in my skinned knee The wound will close eventually You'll stay as a reminder of How fucked this world can be Held your funeral on a Tuesday Holy water's November-cold That kid that pulled the trigger Knew tomorrow couldn't promise him hope All these bastards are gathering rope You're pushing to heaven all alone They're grabbing your ankles, they won't let you go The ebb and the distant flow They're cutting your wings off Built your ceilings out of stained glass They were cutting your wings off I was staring at my idle hands Maybe I could have done something Maybe I could have made a difference John Wayne with a god complex Tells me to buy a gun Like shooting a teenage kid is gonna solve any problems Like it's an arms race Like death don't mean nothing, whoa To know the heavy price of living poor Walled in by red lines, backed into a corner Not knowing, growing up What it's like to belong here, in America If everyone's built the same Then how come building's so fucking hard for you? It's something we're all born into Well, nothing's left up to grey It's black or white and sometimes black and blue It's something we're all born into, whoa Now I know what's in a name; not just my father's Three-fifths a man makes half of me, why should I bother? Merchants of misery stacking the deck Fuck your John Waynes, fuck your god complex I've got everything in front of me, but can't reach far enough To touch these fever dreams they call American I am the ghetto's chosen one The privileged bastard son They're getting their anchors, they're gathering rope You're pushing to heaven all alone They're getting their anchors, they're gathering rope You're pushing to heaven all alone