We wash our faces,
But we don't see anything at all,
We don't see anything at all.

We kill mindless racers;
And something's gonna make us fall,
Something's gonna make us fall.

Stop pretending, baby,
That you've never felt the love;
That you've never killed the dove.

Stop the war and may be
We'll be gonna get enough;
We'll be gonna get some stuff.

{It really hurts me, baby;
 I wanna see you under ground.
 Everybody hates me,
 I'm losing everything I've found.
 I see this damn world and I
 Wanna be the bird
 To fly away from this life;
 Don't wanna live in dirt.}

We're scratching our asses,
But we can't do anything at all;
We can't do anything at all.

We lead the way to places
Where we won't feel hate or love,
There we will be waging war.