Why are we so obsessed
with cutting skin
When the real things
in our lives can't fit in
Marching to the same drum
Every single beat's gone
I can hear the dark days coming
Another generation
Fighting for attention
Can't you see
I'm tired of running
Why are we holding hands
like paper chains
Why are we so content
to stay the same
Marching to the same drum
Every single beat's gone
I can hear the dark days coming
Another generation
Fighting for attention
Can't you see
I'm tired of running