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What's behind these broken walls? |
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What fills this city? |
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What's behind these broken walls? |
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If I could mend this gap |
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This city's permanent juxtaposition, |
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The line between opulence and decay, |
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A tight-rope sidewalks cut most every minute, |
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The battle lines are drawn but players slowly fade away or stay and change. |
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The battle's over, |
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Who will stay? |
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So fucking beautiful they say, they say |
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So face forward we stand, |
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Broken bodies, weathered hands, |
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And this we've learned so well, |
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That though they'll take us down, |
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Together we're strong now! |
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And we'll go out singing. |
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It seems this current generation, |
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Sufferers like their fathers never knew, |
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While men in foreign lands feed their families, we stand, |
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Face forward, face forward, |
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These lines are drawn. |
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The battle's over, |
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Who will stay? |
|
So fucking beautiful they say, they say |
|
What's behind these broken walls? |
|
What fills this city? |
|
What's behind these broken walls? |
|
The battle's over, |
|
Who will stay? |
|
So fucking beautiful they say, they say |
|
The battle's over, |
|
Who will stay? |
|
So fucking beautiful they say, they say |
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So who is right and who is wrong? |
