Paroles A Warehouse Full Of Mailbombs... de Backstabbers Inc.

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(and not one fucking stamp)
fuck your speeches to me of fucking sacrifice, of inspiration... of fucking change. of two hour rants on who we all should blame. deaf to this world, and dead in my eyes... i watch as another toy soldier dies. fuck your revolution. and if you didnt' hear the first time, i'll say it once again. one fucking song won't start this fucking riot. it doesn't fucking matter how many kids buy it. fingers in the air, a gun to the head, the ones who screamed for a change? well, they're all fucking dead. your t-shirts, your pins, your patches won't win... they all won't win this fucking war. so far from over, so far from done. fuck you message boards, we haven't won. so, fuck you. let's talk of broken bones. let's, let's talk of blood on the floor. let's talk of all the days gone by, and we we strive for more. talk of something, anything. we throw these words away like all the time we've wasted. and a fest, a weekend for the fucking scene queens, all disguised as "inspiration." i'm not buying it. i'm not dying here. i'm not part of your fucking empire. i've said it before, i'll say it again. i'll say it until the day i fucking day. fuck your revolution.

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