Tonight I sat alone on the step and stared into the blank sky
stars cloaked by smog, the poison of our own.

and as the bitter air bit down I held my breath and
thought of all the others on their backs. (x4)

How do you organize resistance against something that's not even there (but still killing you?)
Your dirt covered fists, screaming indignantly, midigate to out turned palms pleading admittedly.

Raping people of their hope and the sky of all its stars.
They're dying at your feet but 'who cares who they are', right?

There's no place like home (x4)

filling (it's like filling)
an empty glass (an empty glass) from an empty bottle
it's stricken (it's stricken) by rigormortis (by rigormortis) with your hand on the throttle.

Grasping at the chance through a wall of austerity and a fence of police enforced by democratic vulgarity.
Two percent controlling the power:
controlling you,
controlling me,
controlling the borders of democracy.

So it's you, and it's me and we're up against a fence,
control of be controlled, by only two percent.
So it's you, and its me, and we're up against a fence,
control or be controlled, because only we can set us free.

(Think of all the others on their backs.