when did it begin?
and will it ever end?
the way you take the muscle from the song
and kinda swing it
you lay it on
and I aint one of your friends
losing all the grain
and now you say it
now why would that be me?
and why would I agree
to keep it in my head
and what you think is cold
the nature of my soul
sorry man
I aint gonna be told
let it all be
I wonder why
you put this on me
I speak my mind
its sorta funny
I’m violent with the hands in my head
they kind of move
but movin gets me nowhere
now you can all decide
and you can tell your lies
but who you call your friends
and what you think is cold
the nature of my soul
sorry man
I aint gonna be told
let it all be
tangle it in the ends
heart in hand
lookin for the blood
of the white man
lookin for the day
when I can be an indian
after all this time
I get my revenge
but I, I aint no indian
I have to kill
with what I can
dream of their fight, dream of their death

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