No-fly list. No-drive list. No-walk list. No-talk list.
No muckraking journalist left to take stock of
the wholesale omission of outside perspectives.
How does it make you feel to know that you voted for this?
So much for your hopes and your dreams and your children.
You just sat there believing in this bullshit system.
Just wishing the mob would magically come to its senses.
How does it make you feel to know you just stood by and watched it?
Dazed. Numb. Powerless. Stunned.
While we frantically click our heels, already home.
The bands. The sports. The booze.
It's all that's left of you.
When the cops and the courts refuse
To confess the sins of the few,
What is there left to do?
The answer's there right before your eyes: rise.
Propagandhi - Note To Self Lyrics
Propagandhi - Note To Self Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
No-fly list. No-drive list. No-walk list. No-talk list.
No muckraking journalist left to take stock of
the wholesale omission of outside perspectives.
How does it make you feel to know that you voted for this?
So much for your hopes and your dreams and your children.
You just sat there believing in this bullshit system.
Just wishing the mob would magically come to its senses.
How does it make you feel to know you just stood by and watched it?
Dazed. Numb. Powerless. Stunned.
While we frantically click our heels, already home.
The bands. The sports. The booze.
It's all that's left of you.
When the cops and the courts refuse
To confess the sins of the few,
What is there left to do?
The answer's there right before your eyes: rise.
No muckraking journalist left to take stock of
the wholesale omission of outside perspectives.
How does it make you feel to know that you voted for this?
So much for your hopes and your dreams and your children.
You just sat there believing in this bullshit system.
Just wishing the mob would magically come to its senses.
How does it make you feel to know you just stood by and watched it?
Dazed. Numb. Powerless. Stunned.
While we frantically click our heels, already home.
The bands. The sports. The booze.
It's all that's left of you.
When the cops and the courts refuse
To confess the sins of the few,
What is there left to do?
The answer's there right before your eyes: rise.
Writer: CHRIS HANNAH, DAVID GUILLAS, JORD SAMOLESKY, TODD KOWALSKI
Copyright: Lyrics © MOTHERSHIP MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © MOTHERSHIP MUSIC PUBLISHING