August
Monday 7 June 2010 photo 1/1
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Chairs thrown and tables toppled,
Hands armed with broken bottles,
Standing no chance to win but,
We're not running, we're not running.
There's a point I think we're missing,
It's in the air we raise our fists in,
In the smiles we cast each other,
My sister, my brother.
About the time we gave up hoping
We'd ever find these locks still open,
Stumbling on stones unturned,
The hurt we feel, we all have earned.
The lines we cross in search of change,
But all they see is treason.
Although we have no obligation to stay alive
On broken backs we beg for mercy, we will survive
Hands armed with broken bottles,
Standing no chance to win but,
We're not running, we're not running.
There's a point I think we're missing,
It's in the air we raise our fists in,
In the smiles we cast each other,
My sister, my brother.
About the time we gave up hoping
We'd ever find these locks still open,
Stumbling on stones unturned,
The hurt we feel, we all have earned.
The lines we cross in search of change,
But all they see is treason.
Although we have no obligation to stay alive
On broken backs we beg for mercy, we will survive
Annons
Comment the photo
Anonymous
Mon 7 Jun 2010 19:55
I whip ya head boy
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