We wash our faces,
But we don't see anything at all,
We don't see anything at all.
We kill mindless racers;
And something's gonna make us fall,
Something's gonna make us fall.
Stop pretending, baby,
That you've never felt the love;
That you've never killed the dove.
Stop the war and may be
We'll be gonna get enough;
We'll be gonna get some stuff.
{It really hurts me, baby;
I wanna see you under ground.
Everybody hates me,
I'm losing everything I've found.
I see this damn world and I
Wanna be the bird
To fly away from this life;
Don't wanna live in dirt.}
We're scratching our asses,
But we can't do anything at all;
We can't do anything at all.
We lead the way to places
Where we won't feel hate or love,
There we will be waging war.