domingo, 28 de julio de 2013

Hands held high - Linkin Park

Turn my mic up louder, I got to say something 
Lightweights steppin' aside when we come in 
Feel it in your chest, the syllables get pumping 
People on the street then panic and start running 
Words on loose leaf sheet, complete coming 
I jump in my mind, I summon the rhyme I'm dumping 
Healing the blind, I promise to let the sun in
Sick of the dark ways we march to the drumming 
Jump when they tell us that they wanna see jumping 
Fuck that, I wanna see some fists pumping 
List something, take back what's yours 
Say something that you know they might attack you for 
'Cause I'm sick of being treated like I had before 
Like it's stupid standing for what I'm standing for 
Like this war's really just a different brand of war 
Like it doesn't cater to rich and abandon poor 
Like they understand you, in the back of their jet 
When you can't put gas in your tank, these fuckers 
Are laughing their way to the bank, and cashing their check 
Asking you to have the passion and have some respect 
For a leader so nervous in an obvious way 
Stuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replay 
And the rest of the world watching at the end of the day 
In the living room, laughing like, "What did he say?" 


In my living room watching it, I am not laughing 
'Cause when it gets tense, I know what might happen 
The world is cold, the bold men take action 
Have to react to get blown into fractions 
At 10 years old, it's something to see 
Another kid my age drugged under a Jeep 
Taken and bound and found later under a tree 
I wonder if he had thought 'the next one could be me' 
Do you see the soldiers that are out today?
They brush the dust from bulletproof vests away 
It's ironic, at times like this you'd pray 
But a bomb blew the mosque up yesterday 
There's bombs on the buses, bikes, roads 
Inside your market, your shops, and your clothes 
My dad, he's got a lot of fear, I know 
But enough pride inside not to let that show
My brother had a book he would hold with pride 
A little red cover with a broken spine on the back 
He hand-wrote a quote inside, 
"When the rich wage war, it's the poor who die" 
Meanwhile, the leader just talks away 
Stuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replay 
The rest of the world watching at the end of the day 
Both scared and angry, like "What did he say?" 


With hands held high into a sky so blue 
As the ocean opens up to swallow you.