Draped in anger and clothed in brokenness, we speak with frailty and false intelligence. Walking as if we’re numb to the pain, we stare in the graves as our nerves fade away. Cut to the heart. I repent. No longer cold. I repent. Face in the dirt. I repent. No longer cold. I repent.

We are the product of mass prescription, sold to the sellers of every trend. Bound and gagged by the institutions, silence is their greatest demand. Will we use our voices to say anything worth saying at all? Hope for the hopeless, strength for the weak, love for the broken done to the least. Will my generation know that they were bought, bought at a price more precious than gold? Will my generation know that they were bought, bought at a price more precious than gold?

Cut to the heart. No longer cold. Face in the dirt. No longer cold.

Are we saying something (x3), are we saying something real? We are the voice of a broken generation. Kicked out and beaten down. Religions all have failed us now. Retaliating against the old with this bitter taste in our mouths. Left alone, naked and cold. We are the voice of a broken generation. Kicked out and beaten down. Religions all have failed us now. Retaliating against the old with this bitter taste in our mouths. Left alone, naked and cold.