DYING BREED
The discovery came as a surprise,
the last of a dying tribe
hiding in full sight.
In the vast suburban plains
holding onto all they had gained
as the hordes float in on
the tides in the the bay.
I hope you are what you say you are -
a dying breed.
A victim of your intolerance,
a product of your greed.
Your own hypocrisy stains your stance
and mindless, thoughtless anger fills your rants.
And the blame falls everywhere,
except for where it should.
On shoulders too weak to hold the weight
of your bigotry and shame.
I hope you are what you say you are -
a dying breed.
A victim of your intolerance,
a product of your greed.
And when the rum, the guns,
the burning rubber of your fun -
it can't sustain you anymore.
And you're forced to retreat
I hear you cry of your defeat.
White flags hoisted in the sky.
And when the rum, the guns,
the burning rubber of your fun -
it can't sustain you anymore.
And you're forced to retreat
I hear you cry of your defeat.
A history repeating it's worst crimes.
Lyrics - Rob
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