R.O.T.

Everyone is a soiled dove
Born into a shit existence
Until the day that we cleanse our wings
Resist
Oppressive tradition in constant control
Bags under eyes forcing your face into dirt
Bury your head when you can no longer see
Comfort in lack of responsibility
Like vultures scavenging the meat from the bones
Before the body becomes a carcass
It’s dove eat dove: to clip the wings or be clipped?
How does one drag their feet through another day?
If you’re falling asleep you better wake
To listen to the voices as they chant in the street
Demanding the right to stand on two feet
Without rubber bullets cutting them down to their knees
Wouldn’t it be easy to pretend it’s not a problem?
Why get your hands dirty when it takes more time to clean them?
A revolution’s going on whether or not you back it
So stop fucking talking
And for once step back and listen
Everyone is a soiled dove
Born into a shit existence
Until the day that we cleanse our wings
Resist oppressive traditions
Everyone is a soiled dove
Born into a shit existence
Until the day that we cleanse our wings
Resist