Daltonians Songtext
von Birds in Row
Daltonians Songtext
Reality′s a fraud
My patience could use a doctor.
Sick of battles we're not willing to chose,
Forced down our throats,
King size bullshit to conquer.
There once was a saying, about a tree and a forest, I guess,
I just took that one for granted:
All my friends hate me, they voted for war.
One hand to coax the cause, One to beat up the symptoms.
A handful of bandaids on stage-4 tumors,
With bed sheets cancers just turn to ghosts.
I ain′t scared of the dark, just afraid of you.
Allergic to all uniforms?
Prepare for a sick rash.
What is it you prove at the end of a gun? Since you chose what I see, Shoot me in the eye, I have no use for it.
When we're done stealing the walls of our schools to erect prisons,
We could nerd out on facts and on tools
To teach us kids how to listen.
All my friends hate me, they voted for war.
One hand to coax the cause, One to beat up the symptoms.
We're daltonians in deep talks About colors we love.
I ain′t scared of the dark, just afraid of you.
Maybe one of them, Maybe one of yours.
Not sure what it means, Greens or reds or truth.
We all preach, we all fall, We all see, we all know.
And if browns turn to grey And nuances fade away
Comes the time to blame the pigment.
Allergic to uniforms, Color-blind and friendless, I′m going to war.
My patience could use a doctor.
Sick of battles we're not willing to chose,
Forced down our throats,
King size bullshit to conquer.
There once was a saying, about a tree and a forest, I guess,
I just took that one for granted:
All my friends hate me, they voted for war.
One hand to coax the cause, One to beat up the symptoms.
A handful of bandaids on stage-4 tumors,
With bed sheets cancers just turn to ghosts.
I ain′t scared of the dark, just afraid of you.
Allergic to all uniforms?
Prepare for a sick rash.
What is it you prove at the end of a gun? Since you chose what I see, Shoot me in the eye, I have no use for it.
When we're done stealing the walls of our schools to erect prisons,
We could nerd out on facts and on tools
To teach us kids how to listen.
All my friends hate me, they voted for war.
One hand to coax the cause, One to beat up the symptoms.
We're daltonians in deep talks About colors we love.
I ain′t scared of the dark, just afraid of you.
Maybe one of them, Maybe one of yours.
Not sure what it means, Greens or reds or truth.
We all preach, we all fall, We all see, we all know.
And if browns turn to grey And nuances fade away
Comes the time to blame the pigment.
Allergic to uniforms, Color-blind and friendless, I′m going to war.
Writer(s): B, J, Q Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com