Welcome to Gaia! ::

Great! *thinking* i think i'll go with a LP song. Here are the lyrics:
Turn my mic up louder I got to say somethin.
Lightweights step it aside when we come in
Feel it in your chest, the syllables get pumpin
People on the street they panic and start running.
Words on loose leaf sheet complete coming.
I jump in my mind and summon the rhyme i'm dumping.
Healing the blind I promise to let the sun in
Sick of the dark ways we march to the drum and
Jump when they tell us that they wanna to see jumping.
F**k that, I wanna see some fist pumping.
risk something, take back what's yours
say something that you know they might attack you for
cause I'm sick of being treated like I have before
like it's stupid standing for what I'm standing for.
Like this war's really just a different brand of war.
Like it doesn't cater to rich and abandon poor.
Like they understand you in the back of the jet, when you
can't put gas in your tank, and these f**kers are
laughing their way to the bank, cashing the check
asking you to have compassion, AND have SOME respect
for a leader so nervous in an obvious way
Stuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replay
and the rest of the world watching at the end of the day
in the living room laughing like "what did he say?"

Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen

In my living room watching, I am not laughing,
Cause when it gets tense I know what might happen
The world is cold, the bold men take action
have to react or get blown into fractions.
Ten years old, it's something to see,
another kid my age drug under a jeep,
taken and bound, and found later under a tree,
I wonder if he had thought the next one could be me.
[Hands Held High lyrics on http://www.metrolyrics.com]

Do you see, the soldiers, they're out today they
Brush the dust from bulletproof vests away.
It's ironic, at times like this you pray,
but a bomb blew the mosque up yesterday.
There's bombs on the buses, bikes, roads,
inside your market,your shops, your clothes,
My dad, He's got a lot of fear I know
but enough pride inside not to let that show.
My brother had a book he would hold with pride
A little red cover with a broken spine.
On the back, he hand wrote a quote inside:
"when the rich wage war, it's the poor who die"
And meanwhile, the leader just talks away
Stuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replay
and the rest of the world watching at the end of the day
both scared and angry like "what did he say?"

Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen.

With hands held high into a sky so blue
as the ocean opens up to swallow you.