Another offensive song. Another not enough.
Another big mouth poet screaming, but it’s never loud enough for them
to hear us when we’re all down here.
So claw your way out.
It’s not my emotions.
It ain’t just in my head.
Let’s make a motion.
We closed mouths we’ll never see it.
Part time devotion.
Even if you stay long enough to show them.
They just don’t want to see it.
I used to want it all, until I’d had enough.
Now I’m longing for that feeling.
A healthy dose of losers lust.
Well I don’t care about being fair. Do you?
It’s just another song.
A song about distrust, but this time
I’m sure you’ll hear it
when it’s blowing up the airwaves or in your face.
We’ll rip your eardrums out.
It’s not my emotions.
It ain’t just in my head.
Let’s make a motion.
We closed mouths we’ll never see it.
Part time devotion.
Even if you stay long enough to show them.
They just don’t want to see it.
This ain’t just a hypocritical complaint
where you can say that the pot is calling the kettle black.
No it is not. But this is a scenario
where you can say the cop is calling the killer
“Black”, “Hispanic”, “Asian”, “Caucasian”,
and if you’ve got it really bad - “Other”.
It’s not my emotions.
It ain’t just in my head.
Let’s make a motion.
We closed mouths we’ll never see it.
Part time devotion.
Even if you stay long enough to show them.
They just don’t want to see it.
To love a man as a man or to live as that man who knows she’s a woman,
this ain’t about these “types” of people.
It’s about all of us, as a people.
Those words might get you shot.
Your skin might get you shot.
Who you fuck might get you shot.
My big mouth will probably get me shot.
Write songs that tear through.
Speak words that scare you.
Stoke the fire, I dare you.
Kill me off,
This movement can’t be stopped.
Another offensive song. Another not enough.
Another big mouth poet screaming, but it’s never loud enough for them
to hear us when we’re all down here.
So claw your way out.
It’s not my emotions.
It ain’t just in my head.
Let’s make a motion.
We closed mouths we’ll never see it.
Part time devotion.
Even if you stay long enough to show them.
They just don’t want to see it.
I used to want it all, until I’d had enough.
Now I’m longing for that feeling.
A healthy dose of losers lust.
Well I don’t care about being fair. Do you?
It’s just another song.
A song about distrust, but this time
I’m sure you’ll hear it
when it’s blowing up the airwaves or in your face.
We’ll rip your eardrums out.
It’s not my emotions.
It ain’t just in my head.
Let’s make a motion.
We closed mouths we’ll never see it.
Part time devotion.
Even if you stay long enough to show them.
They just don’t want to see it.
This ain’t just a hypocritical complaint
where you can say that the pot is calling the kettle black.
No it is not. But this is a scenario
where you can say the cop is calling the killer
“Black”, “Hispanic”, “Asian”, “Caucasian”,
and if you’ve got it really bad - “Other”.
It’s not my emotions.
It ain’t just in my head.
Let’s make a motion.
We closed mouths we’ll never see it.
Part time devotion.
Even if you stay long enough to show them.
They just don’t want to see it.
To love a man as a man or to live as that man who knows she’s a woman,
this ain’t about these “types” of people.
It’s about all of us, as a people.
Those words might get you shot.
Your skin might get you shot.
Who you fuck might get you shot.
My big mouth will probably get me shot.
Write songs that tear through.
Speak words that scare you.
Stoke the fire, I dare you.
Kill me off,
This movement can’t be stopped.
Another offensive song. Another not enough.
Another big mouth poet screaming, but it’s never loud enough for them
to hear us when we’re all down here.
So claw your way out.
It’s not my emotions.
It ain’t just in my head.
Let’s make a motion.
We closed mouths we’ll never see it.
Part time devotion.
Even if you stay long enough to show them.
They just don’t want to see it.
I used to want it all, until I’d had enough.
Now I’m longing for that feeling.
A healthy dose of losers lust.
Well I don’t care about being fair. Do you?
It’s just another song.
A song about distrust, but this time
I’m sure you’ll hear it
when it’s blowing up the airwaves or in your face.
We’ll rip your eardrums out.
It’s not my emotions.
It ain’t just in my head.
Let’s make a motion.
We closed mouths we’ll never see it.
Part time devotion.
Even if you stay long enough to show them.
They just don’t want to see it.
This ain’t just a hypocritical complaint
where you can say that the pot is calling the kettle black.
No it is not. But this is a scenario
where you can say the cop is calling the killer
“Black”, “Hispanic”, “Asian”, “Caucasian”,
and if you’ve got it really bad - “Other”.
It’s not my emotions.
It ain’t just in my head.
Let’s make a motion.
We closed mouths we’ll never see it.
Part time devotion.
Even if you stay long enough to show them.
They just don’t want to see it.
To love a man as a man or to live as that man who knows she’s a woman,
this ain’t about these “types” of people.
It’s about all of us, as a people.
Those words might get you shot.
Your skin might get you shot.
Who you fuck might get you shot.
My big mouth will probably get me shot.
Write songs that tear through.
Speak words that scare you.
Stoke the fire, I dare you.
Kill me off,
This movement can’t be stopped.