The world runs us down a mile or two
Before we're through; it's true
But what can we really do?
It's nothing new

Do we just grow a Barbwire soul?
With anger so hot and eyes so cold
And keep pretending all along
As if that somehow makes us strong

We rail in pain to march out the hate
Without restraint we push at the gate
Make everyone see how right we are
Proudly we brandish every scar

But where does this explosive life end?
Does this rigid bough ever bend?
Is peace ever truly obtained through war?
Won't it just lead back to the way it was before?