We spend too much time
Drinking too much wine
And we don't remember the dreams we had
In the morning when we wake up
Self-deprecation isn't revolution
And killing all cops is not a solution
Writers keep writing, fighters keep fighting
Just make sure you listen
Maybe it's the whiskey
Or I've got a belly full of fire
Can't tell if it's the peppers
Or I'm filled with desire
We're stuck on our identities
Thriving off making enemies
But what have we done to keep the world from killing
Our friends whose deaths suffer no visibility
And maybe we'll find it
And maybe we'll start it
But the trick is finding the voices
Who'll make it through to the men who bring us our choices
And maybe we'll find it
And maybe we'll start it
And maybe we'll stop paying our taxes
Just wait 'til the white house collapses
And maybe we'll feed it
And maybe we'll grow it
With the soil we've got laying under the sidewalks
With the help from our friends with the dirty old school bus
And we'll grow all we can
With the help of your hands
With a green thumb and a need
We'll bring you every seed
We'll give all we can
Take care of ourselves with our shaking hands
Open up shelters and write songs of peace
We will make up our own rental leases
Maybe it's the whiskey
Or I've got a belly full of fire
Can't tell if it's the peppers
Or I'm filled with desire