this is fire!!! is it true you're from MN?

My Death Note (Ft. Swiift)

Graffiti Hieroglyphics

They tell you that your voice is just a whisper in the wind
A sentimental notion of where to begin
A sad and pretty melody, a tune you softly hum
While you're waiting for a future that is never gonna come
They want you to believe it, that your power is a song
A lovely, useless gesture to prove where you belong
On the losing side of history, the romantic and the weak
The quiet, gentle people who are too afraid to speak

And they're not wrong, you know, our vote can feel just like a prayer
A lonely piece of paper surrendered to the air
A hopeful little story told against a coming tide
A place where all our better angels have to run and hide

And our ballots are just ballads, they're just sorrowful and slow
A tune about a better world we don't know how to grow
They're a hymn about a harvest that we're never gonna see
A quiet lamentation for the way things ought to be
But you gather all the singers, and you get them in a room
And that ballad starts to sound a lot more like a sonic boom.

You sing your song into the void, you sing it clear and true
And your neighbor in the darkness, they start singing with you too
And soon the air is trembling with a new and fearsome chord
A harmony of every single soul that's been ignored
It's the music of the fed-up, the forgotten and the wronged
The place where every single one of us has now belonged
And the men up in the tower, they can hear the rising sound
And they feel the steady rhythm shaking their unholy ground

And they're not wrong, you know, our vote can feel just like a prayer
A lonely piece of paper surrendered to the air
A hopeful little story told against a coming tide
A place where all our better angels have to run and hide

And our ballots are just ballads, they're just sorrowful and slow
A tune about a better world we don't know how to grow
They're a hymn about a harvest that we're never gonna see
A quiet lamentation for the way things ought to be
But you gather all the singers, and you get them in a room
And that ballad starts to sound a lot more like a sonic boom.

A single voice is just a note, a single vote's a word
But a million make a message that will damn well be heard
And a ballad can be beautiful, but a chorus is a threat
And every single one of us ain't finished singing yet
So sing your heart out, sing your pain, sing for the stolen and the lost
A ballad is just a ballad 'til you calculate the cost
Of what will happen if we stop, and then you multiply the sound
Until it is a bullet in the silence all around.

And our ballots are just ballads, they're just sorrowful and slow
A tune about a better world we don't know how to grow
They're a hymn about a harvest that we're never gonna see
A quiet lamentation for the way things ought to be
But you gather all the singers, and you get them in a room
And that ballad starts to sound a lot more like a sonic boom.

GANGLAND

Contridium Corde

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