none more black – my wallpaper looks like paint lyrics
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forty miles from the city. sitting in traffic isn’t fun.
crucifix stabbed in soil, to a father from a son.
there’s ghosts on the highway. i claim.
dancing on the medians. slamming breaks.
i’m forty miles from the city and this is the sh-t that’s in my brain,
i need a whim. something i can get caught up in.
i’ve got to get down to something. if i could sacrifice a little bit,
i will. some of us are drinking coffee,
but how the h-ll could you read a paper. probably headlines of fuel,
while the governments putting all the red tape down.
wake up, i just woke up.
the revolution won’t be televised, ’cause it’s in the morning drive.
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