Laugh in the face of death under masthead

Hold your breath through late breaking disasters

Next to news of the trite

Codes, feelings meant global

Like coke in the nose of the nobles keeps it alight

Wrath, riots and the race is on fire

And the music for tanks with no red lights in sight

Got you cryin', cryin'

Oh whyin'

Oh my, my, my

Gold is another word for culture

Leads to fattening of the vultures

Till this bird can barely fly

And Mary and David smoke dung in the trenches

While Zion's behavior never gets mentioned

The writings on your wall

Blood on the cradle and the ashes you wade through

Got you callin' God's name in vain

Leaved the damned to damn it all

Got you cryin', cryin'

Oh whyin'

Oh my, my, my

Broken nose, colored glasses can't see for the thorns

And you just can't stand no more

What a clumsy kind of low

Time to take the wheel and the road from the masters

Take this car, drive it straight into the wall

Build it back up from the floor

And stop our cryin', oh cryin'

Oh cryin'

Oh my, my, my

Our cryin', our cryin'

Our cryin'

Still you try, try, try