Texty:
Protest The Hero

Don't ever ask us to define our morals Sometimes when fundamentals meet teenage heartbreak Some of us are all of us half-selves that love whole hopes

Thus now, he knelt before the ruins Cold of sweat, heat of flame And all the severed heads of those who brought the village The village to it's shame

Well, place your justice in my palm And then I'll make a fist And punch your grimaced face Until every knuckle breaks And bleeds in resistance to my sidewalk

And when the underworld's Best kept secrets Saw it's own reflection I knew things had finally changed For better or worse Whatever as always Midlife

PUNK IS FUCKING DEAD! and its been killed by spiky haired kids that are being filled with the idea that the world is beautiful and free but they've been

Take everything your parents taught you Throw it to the dogs It's a forgotten flesh of something dead It's blood drips from your jaws Take everything

Oh God The sound they must have heard in the distance A wilderness of sound and movement Repeating itself across the narrows of the mountainside The

Is anybody there? is anybody listenin? does anybody care? can you actually say that you don't give a shit about your future and I am scared to think that

So much time slipped away as if it meant nothing at all - I remember that night, we didn't know it would be our last. But now as I look back, an awkward