Hey look, another molotov!
But it’s not a surprise anymore
Is it?
Because these streets don’t go quiet,
even the walls plot a new riot;
just you wait, smell and see,
tires, cars, dumpsters burning, sweet and heavenly.
The higher ups fight each other;
how funny they no longer need to take cover;
the opposition lies still and bland
(they’re used to these reckless moments),
they’ll be there taking over in the end.
If you could watch it from the sky
you’d see this little country fry
and soak in it’s own smoke,
roasted on foundations we broke
I hear it’s a journey to paradise
but they’re doubting if those aren’t lies
So steer us to a fortunate place
praying for less than disgrace…
…or…
…maybe it’s just all going to be ok,
though I’m looking from the other side of the bridge
and the view from here I must say
makes me want to go on a binge.
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