There will be no miracles
when our bodies rise up.
It’s written across the sky
we will find a way up.
We’re hungry.
We’re hungry.
We’re hungry.
We’re hungry.
There’s nothing spiritual
about holding our empty cups.
Our screams will split lightening
And bring on the flood.
We’re hungry.
We’re hungry.
We’re hungry.
We’re hungry.
There is no glory
in a forest of doubt.
We’re waiting for a call
and then we will claw our way out.
We’re hungry.
We’re hungry.
We’re hungry.
We’re hungry.

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS