The community is sick and the community is blind, yeah.
And it's colder than poland and the sun is not shining here;
And we're tangled in the shit of each other's ruined affairs;
And half of us are faking, and the other half is tired and scared...
Please believe in labour and hope and joy;
'Cause like a little boy, i have destroyed hope and joy;
And lately i dream about angels with molotovs;
And nightly they fist me, wrists like tender trucks...
These hands could've moved mountains