The Triumph Of Our Tired Eyes

Sisters and brothers
We have surely lost our way

In strip malls full of cancer
And a pathetic rain

Mother, sweet mother
Please don't discipline your hands

Just kiss me in the mornin'
In your dirtiest pants

We will find our way

We will find our way

There is beauty in this land
But I don't often see it

There is beauty in this land
But I don't often feel it

Pimples are flowers
Musicians are cowards
Let's argue in the kitchen
For hours and hours
Tomorrow is a travesty
Tomorrow should be ours

Musicians are cowards
Musicians are cowards
Musicians are cowards
Musicians are cowards
Musicians are cowards
Musicians are cowards

The soldiers with their specialists
And the pigs with their guns cannot stop
The lost ones and the desparate ones and the driven ones

The soldiers with their cigarettes
And the pigs with their guns cannot stop
The lonesome ones and the desperate ones and the smart ones

So come on friends
To the barricades again

So come on friends
To the barricades again

So come on friends
To the barricades again

So come on friends
To the barricades again

We will find our way
We will find our way

When we finally cross the barricades
With the angels on our side
When we finally deny all the popular lies
When we finally let doubt and worry die
How will it feel?