If I apologize for the swift and sudden rise in
the recurring themes of love and God and war, will
you make amends for the way we all pretend these
aren't the thing we think about when we can't
think about our jobs anymore? I'm so sick of this
fate, I felt compelled to create. I left it for
you, waiting in the nylon space of record crates,
to ease the pain from the soft features of your
face. So you can put your windows down and impose
your musical tastes upon this immense landscape. I
think I'm starting to relate to these troubled
states. And I can't set aside all the
condescending lies they're making us believe about
state and faith and law. Paint every dark-skinned
man a criminal, and every White Christian
forgivable. We're choosing sides, a soldier's
Find more similar lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.com/FDnlife, in the new culture war. I'm, so sick of this
fate I felt compelled to create. I left it for
you, draped in a jewel case outside your place.
For heaven's sake, if the long knives of the night
are keeping you awake...I think we share the
collective fate of these troubled states. So we're
all going to hell, but with one hell of a plan.
Presented in folded flags, embedded in foreign
sand, written upon the dead skin of a dried-up
land it began: "We'll fix the fat and the
ugly with incisions. We'll stash the gay and
liberal up in New England. We'll keep the black
and poor in (or under the constant threat of)
prison. And they'll all feel blessed just for
being a part of the vision..." God please
save these troubled states.