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A Broken Silence
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The Road is Lost (ft Tim Freedman)
Can you picture a little boy Draging wood down the lane? Grandma waiting for him brother, Playing outside in the rain Each day we hear the score, Before not after shots of war And the road to him is love, But the love is never more Wishing it all to end Enraged by the slaughterin' Thoughts explode like my head's a grenade and I drawed the pin Talking to men with one choice: to run off or defend Must punish to win Gotta let that gun off for ya kin The only laws is 'no laws at all' Once it begins upon the smell of blood, Violence is absorbed into the skin And the thoughts of kids, Caught up should torture people to death Now freedom's with them, See if they morph and see any sence Yeah Can you picture a little boy Draging wood down the lane? Grandma waiting for him brother, Playing outside in the rain Each day we hear the score, Before not after shots of war And the road to him is love, But the love is never more Not all pictures of war are, Drawn in the news So we paint 'em a little more, Like George Gittoes do Jaded because we didn't hear them calls coming through How we'd savour our days, If we had to walk in them shoes Countries can't build, Without the support for the youth They lost when their most important, Resources abused, Forming our views And not picking up on the cues Inner-city blues stop many from listening to the clues 更多更详尽歌词 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔镜歌词网 Voices on mute, And so we wisper this to you No time for school, Many children be enlisted to be troops And we walk, thinking, That the system got us screwed Like we taught Just to keep a short distance from the truth When scores are born Only to be drifting to a noose When they're gone We'll be saying lord forgive, we never knew Got a question why many, Got there scriptures misconstrued And why spending on wepons, And not assistance is the rule Yeah Can you picture a little boy Draging wood down the lane? Grandma waiting for him brother, Playing outside in the rain Each day we hear the score, Before not after shots of war And the road to him is love, But the love is never more Yeah We're caught up in the pictures that they have shown us And not the millions of innocents that been blown up Cold hearts disconnecting us from our own blood For their objectives it's best that they blindfold us Can you picture a little boy Draging wood down the lane? Grandma waiting for him brother, Playing outside in the rain We're caught up in the pictures that they have shown us And not the millions of innocents that been blown up Cold hearts disconnecting us from our own blood For their objectives it's best that they blindfold us Can you picture a little boy Draging wood down the lane? Grandma waiting for him brother, Playing outside in the rain
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