Here we are; another school night proclamation of the greater good.
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And what's more, I've the gall to curse and moan about the state of my upset.
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Calling all those who'd hate to grow up.
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When we're left to our own devices recalling all our youthful ideals
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without any means to enact a change.
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When all we are is what we've been taught;
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a curt reflection of what we've bought until we present another way.
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No!
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We can be more, I swear.
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This could be more than 100 bodies silent.
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I can't and I won't suggest I'm wasting too much time.
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We don't have to meet but we want to.
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We don't have to gather but we long to.
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We don't sing but we ought to.
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We don't have to speak but we need to.
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We don't gotta fight but we're going to.
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We don't scream but we ache to.
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There's more to this than just sound.
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Think about what you've heard on your way back home.
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The screams, the chants and the romance, that can't exist without noble intent.
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I'm so naive.
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I'm so naive still.
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Don't feel bad if I don't win everything we sang along to in our greater moments.
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We're much stronger than the world would have us be.
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I'm so naive to suggest there's more to this than us.
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I've Got Your Revolution Right Here, Wise Ass
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| Bombs Over Providence |
