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It's cold outside and my hands are dry |
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Skin is cracked and I realize |
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That I hate the sound of guitars |
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A thousand grudging young millionaires |
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Forcing silence sucking sound |
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Forced into this conversation |
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So I say shine let their planets collide |
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This is the darkening down of my mind |
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We could be making it oiling like crime |
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We could be making it staking last dimes |
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If you want to seize the sound |
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You don't need a reservation |
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The torch is passed it's yours to return |
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Lay at their feet now use it to burn |
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For marketing the use of the word generation |
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A false alliance of money persuading |
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Forcing silence sound sucking |
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Forced into this conversation |
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Now if you want to seize the sound |
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You don't need a reservation |
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So open so young so target |
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I can smell your heart |
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You're a target |
