Some live off the land
|
Some grow tired of the old gas lamp
|
And some turn to strangers along the way
|
Some holy tramp on a desert plain
|
|
Some pour a drink and drown
|
Some long haired innocent swarms the crowd
|
Some give birth to their mother's fiends
|
I'm staring at the strings of change
|
|
And some throw religion away
|
Some clip the nails of the hands that pay
|
Some will give to get in return
|
Strangled sex with their egos
|
|
Some pour a drink and drown
|
Some long haired innocent swarms the crowd
|
Some give birth to their mother's fiends
|
I'm staring at the strings of change
|
|
I'm staring at the strings of change
|
Staring at the strings of change
|
|
-----------------
|
Strings Of Change
|
Matt Costa |