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Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
There is a wrong and there is a right Well if you think you wronged me Then you'd be right Back when music meant saying something worth being said Not money in your pocket but a soul to be fed With the music of the streets Not the chic beats of the elite Or the wannabe street With the same old sheets of recycled notes Everything except for hope floats I've always believed that something worth saying has got to be said Can no longer insult your heart, by ignoring your head So lay in your coffin like it's your bed Can't rest in this present life, your life to be led So plant those seeds that are in your hand Let them scatter and blow like grains of sand And let them march together like a marching band Only room for one conductor in this dry and homely band United we stand, and hail high the unheard cries That are held in our unfurled hands Oh all our mighty plans to plant and grow Invest and show, show me the money, it makes me sick It makes me sick, sick, sick I refuse to be the hands on a clock that tick Or part of a faulty foundation laid with my own bricks My selfish tricks, my rhythmic licks, my ungodly kicks Oh it makes me sick Talk about distraction like it's a normal human reaction To walk through life numb, here we come, and I'm done My brother once said I'd rather be alive than dead To the truth that is redder than red It's redder than red, red, red, red I know what I'm trying to say, even as I awoke today with a cloud over my heart and in my head Something worth saying is worth being said It's not about inventing your own rules, rolling with your own crews, protesting gas, or dissing the news When the only thing that rolls is a royce And the people rejoice, and I cry because I don't have a choice Of the moldy bread that I'm being fed Of people saying things not worth being said Let alone put to a note, everything except for hope floats And I don't care if you're not there 'cause the songs that you are singing are just air There just air, air, air I told the devil there was no smoking in this place Then the devil, he blew smoke in my face I told the devil there was no feeling in my heart Then the devil he threw a fiery dart Now try to tell me that the devil ain't smart That he ain't smart, smart, smart So plant the seeds that are in your hand |