one thousand knives in backs
one thousand true til deaths
saying the same thing over and over

lives contradicting the label they give themseves
when in passing the torch did we kill the flame?
different place and a different time

its the same face and the same rhyme
regurgitate jargon the backwash of the kids before
no substance, empty words, and content with nothing more

fading convictions replaced with the status quo
beliefs traded for comfortable acceptance
different place and a different time

its the same face and the same rhyme
who can go against the crowd
when the crowd is forced into the same mold

when will we start to think for ourselves
this scene can't save your soul