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Four-Fifty-One
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Here the man draws the line for separation.
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(Old Vision).
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Watch the man build up his walls for isolation.
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(You make division).
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Walk no mile,
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I'm sick and tired,
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of all the cowards at the radio station.
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No cathartic plot to thicken,
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to quote the vernacular,
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I'd say that you're chicken.
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chorus
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We're going nowhere,
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and it's happening fast,
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a dim future,
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and a darker past.
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Somewhere away from here,
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from past mistakes they often learn,
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at Fahrenheit 451,
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you close your doors and let it burn.
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Pharisees in the church,
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time to take a vacation.
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(Emancipation).
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Pharisees think the world comes to them for salvation.
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(Booyah).
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The radio is preaching the candy coated goo,
|
the record companies and the TV too.
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No one rocks the boat,
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terrified of trouble,
|
can't tamper with the walls of their sterile Christian bubble.
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It was never your point to get people saved,
|
you pad yourself with fluff just because you're afraid.
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I'm not afraid to point the finger now,
|
the choir's so used to the preaching anyhow.
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-----------------
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Four-Fifty-One
|
| Five Iron Frenzy |
