Bite your tongue child (of God).
Write this on your polished palm,
while we are still so idealistic and young.
Cause if we both believe this room is lit by the sun,
then what's the measure of this lamp and the space that it floods.
Somehow we abandoned our blood for whitewashed walls,
and reason to judge.
We stayed in our houses,
and learned how to spell as we kindly accepted the keys to hell.
Fill my cup.
Let it overflow till we forget where we came from.
We believe we're made to be equal men,
the city streets lined with our vagabond friends.
The rain, it washes their unkept heads,
and they know grace when the day ends.
Then sings my soul.
Then sings my soul.
Then sings my soul till I built myself a great big hole.
Somehow we abandoned our blood for whitewashed walls,
and reason to judge.
We stayed in our houses,
and learned how to spell as we kindly accepted the keys to hell.
And I said no.
You better leave it alone.