borrowing emotions, lend the rights to vacant rooms
lost as the best, blue notes to thank
singing your hymns
there's a dollar to be made but no smell to wash off
kids never knew your name
a chorus when you're long gone
praise for those who never wanted a word
stealing discord, thieves in the speaker
a fist for a pick to capture the holy
birthed from southern air
god gave me a voice to mimic your genius
kids will never know your name
so where do we go with all this tension?
where do i go with caustic idealism?
where do we go?
the woodshed with us
to reinvent the blue notes
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