
There’s no need to watch the bridges that we’re burning(it’s running again)
The bitterness is a lowest sin
A bitter man rots from within
I’ve seen his smile, yellow and brown
The bitterness has brought him down
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The bitterness is a lowest sin
A bitter man rots from within
I’ve seen his smile, yellow and brown
The bitterness has brought him down

On occasion, we all do battle with motivational paralysis
Unable to perform some simple task
Trapped at the stage of analysis
Thoughts of the shortness of life may beget
Bouts of shortness of breath in your chest
Doubts about the worth of the nights you got left
Crowding out all the fear and regret

A couple times last week
I tried hard to speak
A couple times a week
I might know how to speak

Everything seemed to go my way last night
Everything seems so wrong to me this morning
I know things will be brighter later tonight

In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down
And cut him ’til he cried out
In his anger and his shame
“I am leaving, I am leaving”
But the fighter still remains

Revolution come and gone
Behind your eyes, cut out the tongue
Transcend their lies, they try to hold back the dawn of revolution come and gone!

Nema digniteta, nema poštenja
Očenaš i Zdravomarije su cijena oproštenja
I nema općeg dobra, samo vlastita torba i dupe
Kriminalci, a svi šute – papci
Suci, fratri, policajci
Jer su in rođaci u istoj stranci, ista banda
A mi smo stranci u vlastitoj zemlji zbog ljudskog šljama
A mi smo stranci u vlastitoj zemlji zbog ljudskog šljama
Lipa naša silovana!

One more minute in this city’s going to give me a breakdown
One more night in this bar is going to give me the blues
An Altima with one headlight out
Slipping sliding spinning around
Joanie I’m going to take care of you

I keep losing
Still keep hoping for that win
And you can’t change my mind
Not a slave if I’m already free
Not a captive if it’s where I wanna be

We used to waste hours just walkin’ around
We used to wait
All those wasted lives in the wilderness downtown

As you tread your path through a jaundiced corridor
Where each day has no beginning and no end
There are those out here who claim to be so good
I suspect that Jesus holidayed in hell

At the end of a storm
There’s a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark
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