I don’t mind being criticized If I’m wrong, tell me so Let me know, so I can go about doing right And I just might find the solution The retribution The redistribution of answers Being held from us Preventing us from knowing What knowledge is growing somewhere else in life
That’s what they say But that’s what they all say Convey threats to war Scare us because they know we’re not sure Send warnings then bombings exploding everything, incessant destruction so maybe it doesn't matter if I'm right or wrong, I'm being criticized as long as I can adapt to thinking and can think about adapting I just want to do what's right so I write to figure it out But I doubt what I see, do my hand deceive me when my words show that everything is wrong?