This is about bronies. They communicate by stomping.
Like a burning monk
My light flared out in the dark
You're my constant call to arms
Took the blindfold off then left chalk outlines where the future was
It's a goddamn war of attrition
It's a death by a thousand cuts
And if these motherfuckers made it to heaven
They burned the bridge when they got across
They're gathering anchors, they're gathering rope
You push into heaven all alone
They're grabbing your ankles, they won't let you go
The ebb and the distant flow
They're cutting your wings off
Built your ceilings out of stained glass
Well you cut like gravel in my skinned knee
The wound will close eventually
You'll stay as a reminder of how fucked this world can be
Held your funeral on a Tuesday
Holy waters, November cold
The kid who pulled the trigger
Knew too well, couldn't promise him hope
All these bastards are gathering rope
You push into heaven all alone
They're grabbing your ankles, they won't let you go
The ebb and the distant flow
They're cutting your wings off
Built your ceilings out of stained glass
They were cutting your wings off
I was staring at my idle hands
Maybe I could've done something
Maybe I could've made a difference
John Wayne with a God complex tells me to buy a gun
Like shooting a teenage kid is gonna solve any problems
Like it's an arms race, like death don't mean nothing
To know the heavy price of a living boy?
The world in my red lines, backed into a corner
Not knowing growing up what it's like to belong here in America
If everyone feels the same then how come building's so fucking hard for you?
It's something we're all born into
Enough is enough, too gray
It's black or white and sometimes black and blue
It's something we're all born into, whoa-oh
Now I know what's in a name, not just my father
This old man makes half of me, why should I bother?
Machines of misery
Stuck in the dead fucking John Wayne's fucking God complex
Everything in front of me, but there is far enough
To touch those fever dreams they call America
I am the general's chosen one
The privileged bastard's son
They're gathering anchors, they're gathering rope
You push into heaven all alone
They're gathering anchors, they're gathering rope
You push into heaven all alone, no, all alone
My light flared out in the dark
You're my constant call to arms
Took the blindfold off then left chalk outlines where the future was
It's a goddamn war of attrition
It's a death by a thousand cuts
And if these motherfuckers made it to heaven
They burned the bridge when they got across
They're gathering anchors, they're gathering rope
You push into heaven all alone
They're grabbing your ankles, they won't let you go
The ebb and the distant flow
They're cutting your wings off
Built your ceilings out of stained glass
Well you cut like gravel in my skinned knee
The wound will close eventually
You'll stay as a reminder of how fucked this world can be
Held your funeral on a Tuesday
Holy waters, November cold
The kid who pulled the trigger
Knew too well, couldn't promise him hope
All these bastards are gathering rope
You push into heaven all alone
They're grabbing your ankles, they won't let you go
The ebb and the distant flow
They're cutting your wings off
Built your ceilings out of stained glass
They were cutting your wings off
I was staring at my idle hands
Maybe I could've done something
Maybe I could've made a difference
John Wayne with a God complex tells me to buy a gun
Like shooting a teenage kid is gonna solve any problems
Like it's an arms race, like death don't mean nothing
To know the heavy price of a living boy?
The world in my red lines, backed into a corner
Not knowing growing up what it's like to belong here in America
If everyone feels the same then how come building's so fucking hard for you?
It's something we're all born into
Enough is enough, too gray
It's black or white and sometimes black and blue
It's something we're all born into, whoa-oh
Now I know what's in a name, not just my father
This old man makes half of me, why should I bother?
Machines of misery
Stuck in the dead fucking John Wayne's fucking God complex
Everything in front of me, but there is far enough
To touch those fever dreams they call America
I am the general's chosen one
The privileged bastard's son
They're gathering anchors, they're gathering rope
You push into heaven all alone
They're gathering anchors, they're gathering rope
You push into heaven all alone, no, all alone
Lyrics submitted by x-Grinchy-x, edited by greenday68
Stained Glass Ceilings Lyrics as written by Jason Aalon Butler Daniel Jason Campbell
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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Just some lines I'd like to comment on:
Took the blind fold off then left chalk outlines where the future was (A kid he knew from an after school program was killed...they left chalk outlines where this kid was, and kids are the future.)
It's a goddamn war of attrition It's a death by a thousand cuts (this flaw in the education and judicail system is so crippling to think about and widespread it feels like any fight against it is a long war with no progress, and ultimately failing.)
They're gathering anchors They're gathering rope You push into heaven all alone They're grabbing your ankles They won't let you go The ebb and the distant flow (I think he is refering to the policemen and society that limit the children and hold them back, and the kid goes to heaven all alone because no one supports him.)
They're cutting your wings off Built your ceilings out of stained glass (Wikipedia: "A glass ceiling is an invisible barrier that keeps a given demographic - typically applied to women - from rising beyond a certain level in a hierarchy" I believe Campbell is relating to this, and making the glass stained glass to either show the complexity of the issue, or relating it to religion and trying to get into heaven. It could also be that people built this beautiful glass ceiling so that the people metaphorically under it can see how amazing it is up there but know they can never get there.)
Well you cut like gravel in my skinned knee The wound will close eventually You'll stay as a reminder of how fucked this world can be Held your funeral on a Tuesday Holy waters, November cold The kid who pulled the trigger Knew too well, couldn't promise him hope (Campbell will never forget about the kid that died, and knew that the kid who killed him was oppressed under the same system)
They were cutting your wings off I was staring at my idle hands Maybe I could've done something Maybe I could've made a difference (he feels non-active in trying to prevent something like this from happening)
John Wayne with a God complex Tells me to buy a gun Like shooting a teenage kid is gonna solve any problems Like it's an arms race Like death don't mean nothing (John Wayne is an actor who played a cop a few times, so here he is referring to when the cop told him to buy a gun after he was robbed, and how the cop thinks of the robber as sub-human and has no problem killing him.)
So know the heavy price of living poor poor The world in my red lines, backed into a corner Not knowing growing up what it's like to belong here in America (Wiki: "redlining is the practice of denying services, either directly or through selectively raising prices, to residents of certain areas based on the racial or ethnic makeups of those areas." Things are not equal for everyone, especially for certain races.)
Now I know what's in a name Not just my father Three fifths a man makes half of me Why should I bother? (Letlive's singer, Butler, has an African american dad, so here he is referring to the three-fifths compromise where African Americans had 3/5th's of a vote, already setting him up for lower opportunity.)