Testo A Fine Line

Can you create a cure
A remedy for an epidemic
There's no way to be sure
Of a better fix

Here's the perfect bill
A pristine piece of legislation
The fruit of panic and good intention
Seven steps and we're ready to go

Making incisions with rusted blades
Sewing stitches with hands trembling
Burning bridges to light the way
We fight the fire with gasoline

Intoxicated
Blinded by the depths of our pride
This Pierian pool we think we drink from is a lie

The truth remains our feet their blood does stain
No one complains
No one to blame Everything will be okay
Just smile and look away
To the picture perfect day
That we paint

A death-wish dance upon a wall
With no soft ground to break our fall
Too straight-legged to beg for help
No one to save us from ourselves

The truth remains our knees their blood does stain
No one complains
No one to blame
The truth remains our teeth their blood does stain
We want justice
The mirror blames