Today and tomorrow,
What does it matter,
Throwing yourself into the fire
And watching yourself burn.
It might hurt or damage you, or it might not,
If you’re immune or if you’re dead,
Or if you are resilient.
There is the same grey sky up above,
And there are the same sad people
Walking underneath, singing the blues
Waiting for something to happen.
The red-brick walls are turning black with mold.
The red-brick walls cannot sustain this anymore.
They’ve seen enough of struggle. They’ve been depressed
So many times that the pain cannot hold the happy colors
Anymore. The cheerful colors disappear and vanish with the sun.
The sky is clouded, dark, and mean
As we shoot the rockets through it
Trying to escape successfully.
The times are different now, and we are different too.
There is something in the air that we cannot inhale.
It will turn us to stone, it will stone us to death,
It will make us the slaves of our bodies and homes.
The freedom is gone slowly, and nobody knows where it is anymore.
Everything happened too fast.
The store shelves are empty, and the prices are higher than
Paychecks as we wait in our lines for the change.
We call ourselves names, and we want to be friends
We try to be different, yet we want to be all the same.
We try, fail, and fail again to keep on trying.
The birds don’t sing anymore; they’ve turned numb.
Our music is the reflection of us and our souls
As the turntables are spinning those records
Making them sing and turn and tell us something good.
Turning these records to gold as we are
Throwing ourselves into the fire and watching ourselves burn.