we are bleeding, and are breathing with the force of a feather.
we influence this without our knowing what or who we are
the labrats for a conscious generation
are generated by the truth we can not come to tell
and we walk with batteries powered by
and for the greater good
the answers to the questions that were never understood,
just as a recorded tape that will distort the truth of sound
the edit could convey that the blood was grey, and
the veins were black as light

call the doctor, call the lawyer, tell him that we tried
get me off this medication, let me out inside
tell me that i couldnt answer with the truth that i believed
tell me that my devistation was at least well recieved.

let me breathe, and answer me: will there be a chance?
will the water dance into the lungs, or will it grant reprieve?
As the deep insicion choked the blood,
the indecision seeping through the puncture
these little soldiers march to war ready
to die for the rush of their life

Call the sinner, call the saint, tell them that we lied
get away from little demons, they've nowhere to hide
tell the children to hope for the best, get them used to lies
because this fucking medication saves the life that it denies

small minds are influenced by the turning world
inspired to write about angst and love
insipid dreamers speak what should not be said
as the heroin extracts the words of a hope that will soon be gone.

call the writer, call the liar- call them on their lies
get the truth, and get it fast- catch them by surprise
the batteries that run your mind are "for the greater good",
when they run dry and you've nothing left, all will be understood.

02/10/2004

Author's Note: a song inspired by listening to alot of dredg.

Posted on 02/11/2004
Copyright © 2024 Andrew S Adams