A Plateful of Our Dead

Don't ever ask us to define our morals
Sometimes when fundamentals meet teenage heartbreak
Some of us are all of us, half-selves that love whole hopes
And hara-kiri heartbreak

There's almost nothing worse
There's almost nothing (worse than never being) real
(Strained voices crying) wolf (when nobody can) hear

If I had a gun, I'd pump your ethics full of lead
If I believed in meat, I'd eat a plateful of our dead

There's merit in construction when it's done with our own hands
There's beauty in destruction, a resurrection, another chance
There's a you and I in union but just an I in my beliefs
There's a crashing plane with a banner that reads, "Everyone's naive"

The only proof that I have that we shot and killed this horse
(Is the sounds of whips on flesh and a-) a bleeding heart's remorse
The only proof that I have that we shot and killed this horse
A bleeding heart

When I'm In this state of reflection
When you hand me whips and two by fours
I could never (bring them down, bring them down, bring them down)
And beat the same horse (as before)
(Bring them down) (as before)

I'd rather kill a stupid flower and spread its seeds
Until a garden with our bullet-laden morals will be found
I'd rather kill a stupid flower and spread its seeds
Until a garden with our bullet-laden morals will be found
Will be found