young mvchetes – us كلمات اغاني
[verse]
if we murder one another, how are we supposed to suffer?
come on
if we fire down all our numbers, we are scr-ps for hungry vultures
come on
if patience is a virtue, we can no longer continue
come on
if we murder one another, we’ll never live to see them suffer
so come on
[hook]
can we rise up?
can we rise up?
can we rise up?
can we rise up?
huh? huh? huh? huh?
[repeat verse and hook]
[bridge]
there’s a body bag in the alleyway where the homeless go to pray
there’s a child lying desecrated in a rusted steel cage
there’s a bullet through a whole family, brought by the boys in blue
there’s a hand gouging two eyes out in every one of you
there’s a body bag in the alleyway where the homeless go to pray
there’s a child lying dead in an unmarked grave
there’s a bullet through a whole family, but i guess that’s nothing new
when there’s a hand gouging its eyes out, and it’s every one of you!
[extended bridge]
this is the world!
[repeated]
[hook]
can we rise up?
can we rise up?
can we rise up?
can we rise up?
huh? huh? huh? huh?
can we rise up?
huh? huh? huh? huh?
can we rise up?
huh? huh? huh? huh?
[outro]
so what of us? what of us?
what of the people who’ve had enough?
what of the children, and what of the future
and is there a future if we keep this up?
what of the broken hearted and our dearly departed;
how many bodies must we tally up?
how many arguments do we have to go
before it’s finally all said and done?
how many tears will i have to cry before i rejoice to smile again?
how many leaders still have to die before my enemies become my friends?
how many? just give me a number
so i can count down the days until
all the world is at peace and calm and our convulsions have begun to still
still, i know the end never arrives
because the end is death and i won’t accept
“dying is easy, but living is hard,”
some vietnam war veteran once said
yet, there’s times i wish to resign when all of the violence never fails to proceed
what if, one day, it’s my mother, my partner, or brother?
what if the one who grieves is me?
so what of us? what of us?
what of us people who’ve had enough?
what of the children, and what of the future
and is there a future if we keep this up?
just give me hope; give me a sign;
give me a reason for this poem to stop
until that day, guess i’ll continue to say
“what of us? what of us? what of us?”
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