(child singing random words)
When the baby yawn meets the violence of war,
in the green sea, which was the deep blue before.
They'll give freely what they can never get back.
They don't think, they just seem to do as they're told.
I can't do it anymore. You will think for yourself.
Stop the presses, the press is corrupt.
If there's not a story they'll just make somethin' up.
They believe in an eye above
and for some reason it doesn't preach love.
There's no way out, other than just being better, know I'm here every step of the way.