This paint has been tasting of lead And their chips will fall as they may But it's not just my finish that's peeling And it's not alone fleeing these walls
Well sooner or later this cold It's gonna break, so our hands will be warm again But all I want is not to need you now And sooner or later this code It's gonna break and our words will be heard again But all I want are vows of silence now
This turpentine chaser's got kick And the rag that it's soaked in is rich The fumes aid the pace of my cleaning And as soon as I'm done I am gone
Well sooner or later this cold It's gonna break, so our hands will be warm again But all I want is not to need you now And sooner or later this code It's gonna break and our words will be heard again But all I want are vows of silence now
And the frightening facts We've been facing our backs To for so long now Are begging for eyes to bear witness To lies and indifference Now we're saying aloud The things we've declared in our silence That new coats of paint Will not reacquaint Broken hearts to broken homes Broken homes
Compositor: Christopher Andrew Carrabba (Christopher Carrabba) ECAD: Obra #32836885