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• Artiste: Murder Capital
• Titre: Love Of Country
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The gods in my position make me wanna die Pull up in that empty hearse and let my spirit fly Gods of all commotion spread their seed across the land Don't you love your country? Don't you love your fellow man? The gods in my position make me wanna fly Pull up in that horse-drawn casket and let my spirit die The cause of all commotion spread their seed across the land Makin' love to country, makin' love to fellow man I know your mother was a fighter and your father was so weak He took his hand out of his pocket, and he points it at me He said, "The truth of what's forgiven must be passed down every hand Give your love of country a simple fightin' chance" There were people there of all sorts in the courage of their life Mothers with their plucked wings and the men who lost their wives Young kids reachin' out to daydreams when their homes have lost their shape Could you blame anyone livin' with the wants in for escape? The grass was never ever greener, the streets were stripped of noise The passages we occupied, sang our tunes without a voice Kids reachin' out to daydreams when their homes have lost their shape Could you blame a soul for livin' in a world built to escape? Under Canal, I sat with Domino, where we shared our lives in full Commonalities and our tragedies make for quite the afternoon Just kids reachin' out to daydreams when our homes have lost their shape Could you blame us from your pulpit? We had no choice but to escape The six-year-old inside me sat before my eyes, all new I've been drenched in my regrets and while you stunted I still grew Oh, I'm just a kid reachin' out to daydreams from a few pots of this land Could you blame me for mistakin' your love of country for hate of man?