My mother says: I can't hear one word through all this screaming. And I know she's right. I've seen so much wrong. From fistfights kids. To a throat that's torn. Pen me pretty lyrics. Sing me sweet lullaby's.
Your voice can sparkle son, you've got so much inside! But. They've penned out pretty lyrics.
Your voice can sparkle son, you've got so much inside! But. They've penned out pretty lyrics.
They've sung sweet lullaby's. Heard them on the radio. But they've got nothing inside. I smiled and said: I have to scream (scream, scream, scream). Louder, louder! Tearing throats torn inside me. Fame and fortune and everything that goesâ.
Fifteen fights, your six bucks have gone up the promoter's noseâ€. This may be more to you and me. But this is something they just can't see. We may be screaming and breaking down.
But all this noise is: MUCH MORE THAN SOUND. There's so much screaming (so much) breaking down. We tear our throats down underground. All their fame is our misfortune. Our bleeding ears are being broken.
We keep on screaming and no one hears. We tear our throats and no one cares. This may be more to you and me. But this is something they just can't see.
NO, THEY CAN'T SEE: THIS IS YOU.ME.WE.
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