This is a sermon for the vermin
A song to draw blood
A finger in the dam
Trying to hold back the flood
We are down
But we're still not out
We struggle with faith
In the face of doubt
So is it a crime to think that we've found something more sublime?
That we're somehow more alive?
That we're not just busy dying?
No coincidence, it's by design
Herded into a pen with the rest of the swine
Born to shine, or born to stand in line?
You decide
So you better step up to bat
Before your dreams get hammered flat
This is the sound
Even when your ship has run aground
Don't let bastards get you down