Volasail

you park under the tree to get some shade for your car. in return, your car gets crapped on by every bird in town. oh the cruel irony.

these are the ones that you try to avoid
they’re dirty and scarred and they’re unemployed
you’ll love them as soon as they subscribe

these are the ones that try to attack
pushing their thoughts and you’re bound to push back
a boycott, a blacklist, a blackball from our tribe

all i see is a sea full of sinners
no saints in this crowd, no heroes, no winners
just drunkards and fools like you and me

your club it seems so god-damned exclusive
four easy steps towards heaven elusive
your payment goes towards these TV screens

these aren’t the words that i read for myself
i never owned a god i could put on my shelf
wrap him in the flag and pretend he’s figured out

the back of your car says you don’t belong
so why the hell do you care what goes on
if you hate it so much stay at home and wait for the end

this is not … not how the story goes
building castles and trading blows
making enemies

this is not … not how a lover loves
guarding the gifts from above
holding tight the keys

Love, love, love