Besedila:
The Riot Before Horseshoes And Hand Grenades

and discard the rest In this new age misinform me from the screen If I could overcome this apathy Then I think I'd read I think I'd speak And maybe cut

walk alone downtown The lights above, anchored invisibly The air is thick and stifles sound and I still can't hear the knocking door I'm told so much about and

my sadness all because my hand's empty This is my cry throughout the world this is my apology So I offer up my hand in all its barren readiness And I

you are It's all a show Doctor, make my skin perfect Don't want to ever see below So insecure and so alone The news is shocking and so awful Romanticize

a better lesson Than what I can't articulate about a smile and a sense of something better In what should be desolate and desperate Disenfranchised and disappointing and