First Song, Part 2

I took the needle out of my arm about
A year ago today
And every day since then I’ve been taking
The needle out of my brain
So when I’m staring down at my hands I can’t explain
Just what it is that I’m thinking of
Except thank god that all my veins have to pump is my blood

I’ve done you so much wrong I can’t believe
You would still talk to me
And I say so much bullshit I can’t believe
That anyone around me can breathe
I know that it’s a little dramatic
But the word for not changing is “death”
So I’m getting better, my friends, but please don’t hold your breath

I met a man in rehab the first time
An organizer in prison
He lived in Chicago when the cops shot Fred Hampton
But he was just a kid back then
Justice doesn’t flow from police guns
I’m reminded of that all the time
As long as there is a law, peace will be a crime

What the news calls economics
I still call it violence
If your god is a judge or a jailer
I’m still an atheist
But I try to have faith in the things that will happen;
I get saved from myself when I do
So maybe “God” isn’t the right word, but I believe in you