Picking up the pieces of a tragedy
That implicates us all
Life comes in, life goes out
When the vultures come to town
Searching for an answer in the madness of bad ideology
200 pints of blood
200 pints of blood
Oh-oh-oh, please don't go
Nothing grows, down that road
Oh-oh-oh, hold me close
Nothing grows, down that road
Not one stone to cast before the cure is found
It's agreed that you'll need to come clean
To confess on your own
Not one stone to cast before this hallowed ground
It's agreed that you'll need to come clean
And come quietly alone
Oh-oh-oh, tormented soul
Nothing grows, down that road
Oh-oh-oh, rain your blows
We still know who we are
All our streets are burning with the need for progress
Need to carry on

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