Speak Up

Old men are bending all the airwaves
in the shapes of crosses
It’s coming back again
They’ve come to shoot us in the wallets,
scrub us off with static
and send us off to pray

It’s coming back again—I’ll be leaving with my friends with a bottle in my hand

It’s coming back

Old foes are coming back in new clothes—
they’ve traded in their armbands for a tuxedo
Duct tape is all that stands between us,
between us and the airwaves
It’s coming back again

It’s coming back again—I’ll be leaving with my friends with a bottle in my hand
It’s coming back again—I’ll be getting out of hand,
it’s a circle in the end

You say you don’t hear your own voice like everybody else does, and that you’ll never know
I just, I just want to tell you, that it is so beautiful
and that you should speak up.