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Been a long time since she got any affection
Her skin still smooth has also grown thick
She turns to him because she’s desperate for protection
But he turns on her and won’t stop clipping her wings
They’re filling up the armies with the peasants
The men sit back and leave it to the kids
And when it’s done the streets are filled with widows
It’s the paradox of the nationalists
Are you classless, or a servant and someone’s master?
See your own reflection in the street
Chasing pleasure, we build ourselves a desert
Now the days are hot and in the night we freeze
We hate the things we’re passively supporting
The gap between what should be and what is
The things we love will be the first to perish
And she looks inside for the courage to resist
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