Post suburban ghetto child

because there's anger in my blood
because there's blood on the floor
'cause we all chose for entertainment
broken dreams and closet whores
a lone man's cry, an unheard call
is loud in that man's ears
mine is not an inner struggle
yours may be to shed my tears

roots that hold nurture the soul
and strangle as they wind
this punk rock ghetto's noose of thought
too proud to cut the twine
it lifts us, lets us see forever
we see all as our world fades
when scenes reflect the outside world
numbered are their days
numbered, numbered are their days

numbered are our days...
we're stretched to our limit as mostly white and straight
another 'boy's club' anthem just won't get us through the day
'cause in the end what difference did we make
when we say we'll change the world but we can't even change the scene
and the world don't give a fuck if you can't even say what you mean
right'

like a body lying under me
killed in vein
but it couldn't stop struggling
take what you've got
but do not take more
'cause when your ethics rot
in the outside pours

want a healthy libido? gotta stroke it the right way
can we at least change ourselves or will that rub us against the grain
when trying another's shoes is just too much of a pain
and speech is just one step but we forgot what to say
'cause saying you're no sexist (or homophobe, or racist, or fascist, etc.)
just doesn't make you that way
right'

little minds and little culture
'cept that which we claim to fight
break the chains we scream unending
pull to break but we just tighten them
rest assured we'll sleep unnoticed
by a world that never cared
we're just not a threat to that world
that world baked the cake that we all share