sit down and shut right up My mind is burning up My mind is burning, burning My mind is burning, burning My mind is burning, burning My mind is burning, burning
to the salt of the earth Say a prayer for the common foot soldier Spare a thought for his back breaking work Say a prayer for his wife and his children Who burn
new the was I perssure the common shoot That you would listen, but you can't hear me So I guess I'm going solo I'm still living Burn listen I'm on a
A fragile peace can look when it's been torn. Now we stand like broken statues 'midst the wreckage of our homes, Try to recognize our children by the
The writing's on the wall, but no one cares at all To convey the message that we wrote ourselves Destroy the walls we mend and burn the candle at both
see, third world countries are rich places, abundant in resources, and many of these countries have the capacity to feed their starving people and the children
s not what they anticipated But, fuck, it doesn't matter. Put your fists up and instigate it And they can't save the planet Or the children or the bandits
children to come unto me. Suffer little children to come unto me. Suffer little children to come unto me. Suffer little children to come unto me. *
a secret 'bout the world spins yet nobody's pledged allegiance and why? His beaming smile knew a private agony that burns And when the children met divinity
for to be made For such a guest is meet What kind of thing is more common ? What think you on't ? I'm as the indifferent children of the earth As my
must be more Will keep on going 'round I know there must be more Will keep on going 'round I know there must be more 'Till we burn the house of commons
's getting late in the evening (and I really don't mind at all) And I'm grateful one more time Wish I could freeze this feeling (before the stars burn
When the sunshine burns the darkness Remove the veil that lingers on Your face The stains of time still mark us Standing in the aftermath of grace Standing
around her Like a veil nothin' but her prison was profane All we had in common was our chains Ah, burn it down boys, burn it to the ground Boys, burn
"who's this guitar-playing sonsa bitch? ", is a question common asked. On his head a bucket of chicken bones, on his face a plaster mask. He
women and children on the constant attack For no reason till the next season And we still bleeding, yo it's freezing And men burn in hell, some for squeezing
dream of childhood memories some I never will forget, some I might as well. Well most of them have happy endings, some of them still burn like hell?they burn like hell?they burn
