So full of hope that he can't sit still,
Even in the presence of strangers.
He's expecting his favorite guest,
The boy with easy virtues.
But when the boy arrives he's got a black eye,
From the lads who plague us outside.
He laughs, calls for the world to die,
Then hugs and kisses it better.
Tell him why do you go to extremes
And how it must show.
He's half-full of courage and he stumbles to work,
Where they bitch about their babies.
They ask him where he got his bruises
He mumbles excuses he lies and lies.
He cannot allow them to finish him off.
Over-heated, overwrought.
He refuses to die like a saint,
Half-believed and always deceived.
Giving us grief for centuries now.
Can you never rest.
Beaten insulted skewered and branded.
Isn't waking enough.
You're breathing this fear maybe once a year.
We suffocate every day.
Artist: Thrice
Artist: Roy Ayers
Artist: Bill Baird
Artist: Angeles Del Infierno