From the recording Revolution Hymns
It’s just one of those scenes. There isn’t anything to connect all of these people, but for one reason or another they all found themselves there that night. A lone guitarist on stage. Call girls. Christians protesting outside. Everyone pointing a finger of blame at the other. None would have ever believed that an angry gunman would make fellow humans of them all.
They weren’t bullets, but words. Just as effective at cutting us down.
“I can’t save the world with your opinion.”
What will you do if this comes back to you?A good, but an irrelevant questionpaint me by numbersyou don’t have the rightto save me when you yourself need saving you’re softening the blow boys play guitars in profound hotel bars,their eyes steeped with artistic contemplationpoint to the east while they crucify the westhow could you do this to my tribe you’re softening the blow stiletto heels go with political sleevesand the glitter girls weave baskets for the bake saleyour generosity of opinion is sweet,but I can’t save the world with your opinion you’re softening the blow