We spend too much time Drinking too much wine And we don't remember the dreams we had In the morning when we wake up Self-deprecation isn't revolution And killing all cops is not a solution Writers keep writing, fighters keep fighting Just make sure you listen Maybe it's the whiskey Or I've got a belly full of fire Can't tell if it's the peppers Or I'm filled with desire We're stuck on our identities Thriving off making enemies But what have we done to keep the world from killing Our friends whose deaths suffer no visibility And maybe we'll find it And maybe we'll start it But the trick is finding the voices Who'll make it through to the men who bring us our choices And maybe we'll find it And maybe we'll start it And maybe we'll stop paying our taxes Just wait 'til the white house collapses And maybe we'll feed it And maybe we'll grow it With the soil we've got laying under the sidewalks With the help from our friends with the dirty old school bus And we'll grow all we can With the help of your hands With a green thumb and a need We'll bring you every seed We'll give all we can Take care of ourselves with our shaking hands Open up shelters and write songs of peace We will make up our own rental leases Maybe it's the whiskey Or I've got a belly full of fire Can't tell if it's the peppers Or I'm filled with desire