Give me something to sing about.

Give me something to sing about.


Feel the power.
The first sign of a dreamer's doubt
Black wedding gowns drained of blood
Atomic bombs hidden in a raindrop's sound
No blacks allowed signs, prophets bow down
Babies born with their eyes turned inside out
Razorblades on a bathroom floor;
a crying mom banging on the door
Her fists violently hitting the drums to a guitars last accord
Bodies stroke their caskets
Hidden behind jokes and laughter
Freezing flames burst through a stripper's last tears
Sweet words whispered in a dead man's ear
Burning steel through cowards on fields and mountains
Feel the power.
Give me something to sing about.