Stained Glass Ceilings

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

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

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