Bombs Over Providence - All The Good Guys Are Dead, And I'm Twisting My Moustache lyrics

rate me

So it's true: 1989 really is that far away and I wouldn't care, <br />

Had I not the fortune to be shown the history of memory lost. <br />

The sky is falling down and we're being convinced that it's rain, <br />

With ideals as parasols we're soaked all the same. <br />

Questioning what we've always known. <br />

Here I reconcile the difference between my concern <br />

And long weekend discussions of our weakest ends, <br />

And parlour room socialism; activist party tricks. <br />

I'll cut dead the pitch and wane of 10,000 voices screaming, <br />

And I'll draw blood from the claims that Tiananmen isn't everywhere. <br />

Beauty is a weapon. <br />

Spark the fuse and we could be: just enough, just in time, just of thought. <br />

Knowing that all this belongs to us. <br />

We will not be sold away on this forum of rights exchange. <br />

Where have all the students gone? <br />

Have we been bought as well? <br />

Did we die? <br />

Are we as guilty? <br />

And we'll burn before we learn, <br />

We'll fan these burning textbook pages keeping us awake.