Oh, what do you know,
Since there's nothing above, there must be something below,
But no, no don't look down,
'Cos through the stories of war, flow the tears of a clown
So take those pictures off the wall,
No-one will believe you till your world starts to fall down
And oh, what's this I see,
While you're thinking 'bout you, I'm busy thinking 'bout me,
And oh, what was that you said,
These ain't written for you, these are the songs for the dead
Still you're sitting there requesting for the right to cry,
Don't look to me to wipe those tears from your eye
So take those pictures off the wall,
They're pictures of a time that don't mean nothin' at all
And now you're at the wheel,
They've uncovered your lies, now tell me how does that feel?
And oh, what was that you said,
These ain't written for you, these are the songs for the dead
So take those pictures off the wall,
Your force fed icons words they don't mean nothin' at all,
And still you're sitting there protesting for the right to die,
Well button up, bite your lip and wipe those tears from your eye