Stained Glass Ceilings Lyrics - No Closer To Heaven - The Wonder Years

Like a burning monk 

My light flared out in the dark 

You're my constant call to arms 

Took the blindfold off 

They'd left chalk outlines where the future was 

It's a goddamn war of attrition 

It's a death by a thousand cuts 

And if these motherfuckers made it to heaven 

They burned the bridge when they got across 

They're getting their anchors 

They're gathering rope 

You push into heaven all alone 

They're grabbing your ankles 

They won't let you go 

The ebb and the distant flow 

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They're cutting your wings off 

Built your ceilings out of stained glass 

Well you're caught like gravel in my skinned knee 

The wound will close eventually 

You'll stay as a reminder of how fucked this world can be 

Held your funeral on a Tuesday 

Holy water's November-cold 

The kid that pulled the trigger 

Knew tomorrow couldn't promise him hope 

All these bastards are gathering rope 

You push into heaven all alone 

They're grabbing your ankles 

They won't let you go 

The ebb and the distant flow 

They're cutting your wings off 

Built your ceilings out of stained glass 

Photos 

They were cutting your wings off 

I was staring at my idle hands 

Maybe I could've done something 

Maybe I could've made a difference 

John Wayne with a God complex 

Tells me to buy a gun 

Like shooting a teenage kid is gonna solve any problems 

Like it's an arms race 

Like death don't mean nothing 

To know the heavy price of living poor 

Walled in by red lines, backed into a corner 

Not knowing, growing up, 

What it's like to belong here in America 

If everyone's built the same then 

how come building's so fucking hard for you? 

It's something we're all born into 

Nothing's left up to gray 

It's black or white and sometimes black and blue 

It's something we're all born into, whoa-oh 

Now I know what's in a name; 

Not just my father's 

Three fifths a man makes half of me 

Why should I bother? 

Merchants of misery 

Stacking the deck 

Fuck your John Waynes 

Fuck your God complex 

I've got everything in front of me 

But can't reach far enough 

To touch those fever dreams 

They call American 

I am the ghetto's chosen one 

The privileged bastard son 

They're gathering anchors 

They're gathering rope 

You push into heaven all alone 

They're getting their anchors 

They're gathering rope 

You push into heaven all alone 

No, all alone