11.22.63

It's as if everything you see back in 1963
Our black hearts among them kneeling
Only one of them was screaming go

They’ve got fire up in trees
In the balance, in the breeze
Hold that trigger with some feeling
As the choir sings out of key
They sing: Blood, mistrust, and the love of god

Red, white, blue bleed through the pearly gates I see
Dead air, an army of greed
With holes in their hearts I see
Making plans to mark the art
A silver lining falls apart
With sinners digging graves in sand
We land ourselves trembling hands
Great god
Bury hard
With all our might we might make our mark

Holding hands to chokе belief
Gripping peoplе that we need
In a moment they were stealing
Oh that thief that stole a piece of me

Red, white, blue bleed through the pearly gates I see
Dead air, an army of greed
With holes in their hearts I see
Making plans to mark the art
A silver lining falls apart
With sinners digging graves in sand
We land ourselves trembling hands
Ow

In the sand

Won't you leave