Not sure if I suffer enough,
To rise against what’s killing me.
Or I’m just not alive enough,
To feel the bullets piercing in.
My eyes are numb,
My legs are number,
But I feel, I’m not make believe.
And your hymns,
Carved in our heads,
Still comply to the souls, you’re trying to heave.
Wounds I have will surely heal,
(But) The sight of your scars will still kill.
Your cries echo in my skull,
Your gunshots are under my skin.
My eyes are numb,
My legs are number,
But I feel, I’m not make believe.
And your hymns,
Carved in our heads,
Still comply to the souls, you’re trying to heave.
When the graves and cells are full of hope,
Their every murder is a genocide.
Maybe we spend too much time thinking,
About who’s gonna be left alive?
But whose decision is it to make?
Is it yours or the worlds they atrociously created?
Did it ever occur to you that you rule your own world?
Don’t you know that it’s our time?
We’ll say it again,
Did it ever occur to you that you rule your own world?
Don’t you know that it’s our time?
My eyes are numb,
My legs are number,
But I feel, I’m not made believe.
And your hymns,
Carved in our heads,
Still comply to the souls, you’re trying to heave.
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