Don’t know why it happens, but it happens all the time.

I see the hatred in your eyes for some imaginary crime.

Then you laugh and try to tell me it’s all inside my head,

And the preachers all assure me I’ll be better when I’m dead,

Better when I’m dead.

Everybody’s talkin’ as if talkin’ made it so…

Ten thousand years of words with no real known place to go.

So show me that the love and joy you talk about

Is not just cryin’ in your prison for someone to let you out,

Someone to get you out.

It took a long long time just to get to here,

And we could lose it all to this world of fear.

Now some will fly and some will fall,

But what you do right now is really all,

Ever, really.

Not much left to tell you that I haven’t sung before.

Most of what was comin, has made it through the door.

There’s nothin’ wrong with livin’, Creation’s wonderful and fine,

Only the things of mans own making fucking up the Grand Design,

Fucking up the Grand Design.

There’s a beast of many nations, devouring all the land,

What’s it gonna take for you to understand,

The power’s in your hand.

It gets too hard to ignore, breathin’ in the poisoned air,

And most everyone’s pretending it isn’t really there.

And you go out and feed it, as if you weren’t aware,

Safe in your denial, so you never have to care.

Ever, really.