I hope I'm not a savior to you, my arms are sore from crosses and I'm not going on another
******* don't even need saving
You are not a savior to me, I'm too old to be saved, because I think I may have saved myself
You are not the sun, you can't  expel all the darkness, because I'm not scared of the dark anymore
You are stronger than me and I'm fine with that
I won't carry your crosses for you, but I will help you walk your dogs
Your kisses won't  rescue me, but you will make me laugh after a long day

My soul is tailgating the tour van of some band from SF that takes themselves a bit to seriously
My soul is somewhere in the woods, half submerged in a creek, caressed by ancient waters toughened by ancient stones
My soul is in a brand new a stadium, cheering on some logo with 80,000 strangers
My soul is the color of calloused feet and broken promises
My soul is the gorilla beating his chest and in a swing of his fist my soul is a little kid wondering how can he cheapen the family bills

I was taught to stop avalanches and raised to swallow tidal waves
But my hands are black as pitch with frostbite and my lungs are filled with water
But I shake off the cold and throw up the water
There is the avalanche in the shape of a coffin and there is a tsunami of raging expectations
And for ***** sake I’m gonna try

She doesn’t care, never forget that
She doesn’t care how or why or even who
The screaming woman holding the charred remains of her life doesn’t give a **** about go **** yourselves 1000th of year of history
She doesn’t care if she saw the tank rolling over her past before it annihilated her present.
She doesn’t care if she didn’t see the bomb drop
All that matters to her is her baby is dead
She doesn’t care if there was bottle rockets near her home, we dropped a smart bomb on it
And it’s we, don’t forget that either, we build the bombs, we build the anguish, we sell death
And what is the price of a mothers anguish?
Campaign money and 2% for your side next election

My soul is tailgating the tour van of some band from SF that takes themselves a bit to seriously
My soul is somewhere in the woods, half submerged in a creek, caressed by ancient waters toughened by ancient stones
My soul is in a brand new a stadium, cheering on some logo with 80,000 strangers
My soul is the color of calloused feet and broken promises
My soul is the gorilla beating his chest and in a swing of his fist my soul is a little kid wondering how can he cheapen the family bills