Good Fashion
Dark lenses tint the windows that are under my eyelids
To hide from the light like I'm stuck in a fire pit
Burning up inside with no desire to live through these lies
So I suffer in silence, culture of violence
Truth stuck behind my lips, bound, gagged, and whipped
Stripped, divided, and split, eating words with a forked tongue
And now the grumble of my stomach's got the thump of a war drum
There's a battle going on inside, nobody's safe from
Clowns are playing Russian Roulette with paint guns
They run in place, and they call it the human race
Losing pace with that stupid look on their face
Shooting blanks
And all they ask is why I wear these glasses
And all I can tell 'em is "Hell, it's good fashion"
All they ask is why I wear these glasses
And all I can tell 'em is hell
We're acting like men of steel with a thin protective shield
Gathering the raw footage that can never make the final reel
So we cover up the stories that eyes tell
Make way for what we take to the grave
It doesn't bide well with souls, buried in a Faustian bargain bin
In the cemetery there's a joust between God and men
Talking loud, but ain't saying nothing, used to have daily discussions
Now I doubt we'll ever talk again
And all they ask is why I wear these glasses
And all I can tell 'em is "Hell, it's good fashion"