An Early Grave

Authors Note: This is a break from my normal style. I had a song stuck in my head, and started writing it to that beat. I’m not much of a song writer, nor have I ever tried to be, but this one wanted to come out. Hope you enjoy it.

It’s a false divide, the hate that we feel,

It’s all in our mind, they paid for the right

To reap what you think, and control what you love,

But those thoughts aren’t yours,

They create this in us, the hate that we feel

Got us toeing that line, keeping us stuck

Keep on spitting our hate, while we’re working our way

To an early grave,

Marching in time to the lies that they give.

Hate in our eyes, and hope is in chains,

Nothing left but our pride and our pain.

We’re hoping for a return, of a decent time,

Or we yearn for a life, full of stubborn ass pride,

But that life’s a myth, it’s one of their ploys

We know we can’t get there, not while we sit by

Being owned by the men in their suits,

They’re running their shows and spitting out hate,

Pushing us on our way

To that early grave,

Marching in time to the lies that they give.

Hate in our eyes, and hope is in chains,

Nothing left but our pride and our pain.

We can keep on living, buried in the past,

Head in the sand, a foot out the door,

Trying to make our way, to that made-up place

Something beyond, but it’s all right here

If only we’d choose, to unburden it now

Instead we line up, giving them more

Their hate is a burden, put down on our souls,

We’re all just so calloused and sore

If we give it up now, I think we’d just create more.

Plotting our way,

To an early grave,

Marching in time to the lies they gave.

Hate in our eyes, and hope is in chains,

Nothing left but our pride and our pain.

Living in the past, or moving on past

Trying to find a key that will open us up

To unlock our heart and let loose our pride

But our pride’s the root, of all of our woes

It keeps us in step, raising our fists

And fighting ourselves, instead of facing our faults

We’re keeping the best parts of ourselves

Locked in our vaults, all hidden away

Until it’s time to go home.

To an Early Grave.

Marching in time to the lies they gave.

Hate in our eyes, and hope is in chains,

Nothing left but our pride and our pain.

And maybe there’s a point, where we stand up and say,

Enough is enough, we’ve given all you’ll take,

Or maybe we’ll continue, just like years before

Until someone else has the nerve to push against

An Early Grave.