Aidan Yagu - Modern Tribalism Lyrics

The loudest truth is often left unheard,
We're fighting for the same, but we've lost the word.
We picked our teams, bought the colors to wear,
Badge on chest or a wrong word and the rival's a glare.
The stands used to echo with cheers for the game,
Now we spit from the bleachers, forgetting the name.
It's not about goals, it's not about plays,
It's the war in the stands that defines our days.
The loudest truth is often left unheard ... heard,
We're fighting for the same, but we've lost the word.... word.
We shout and scream, but we don't speak enough... 'nough,
For in every tribe, there's a love we've lost to dust...
Was it fear? Was it pride? Was it power we crave?
Did the rules of the match shift to master and slave?
It's easier to boo than to lend a hand,
Easier to judge than to understand.
The seats are divided, the chants are rehearsed,
One side's "the savior," the other's "the curse."
What happened to the pubs after the match?
Where rivals clinked glasses, found common scratch.
Now every comment feels like a call to arms,
No ceasefire, just alarms.
We used to laugh, shake hands in the street,
Now the jersey you wear decides who you meet.
The loudest truth is often left unheard ... heard,
We're fighting for the same, but we've lost the word.... word.
We shout and scream, but we don't speak enough... 'nough,
For in every tribe, there's a love we've lost to dust...
But this isn't a match, no sides to score,
No final words, no peace in war.
Flags we wave, in colors so proud,
But the fight's the same, just louder now.
No captains here, just the crowd in control,
Lost is each anthem, we've forgotten the goal.
But why man , why?
Was it the algorithms, feeding the flame?
There's Profit in conflict-it's all just a game.
Or maybe it's loneliness, driving us mad,
The screen's a cheap fix for the friends we once had.
In a crowd of millions, we're feeling alone,
So we scream louder, till we break the tone.
The loudest truth is often left unheard ... heard,
We're fighting for the same, but we've lost the word.... word.
We shout and scream, but we don't speak enough... 'nough,
For in every tribe, there's a love we've lost to dust...
But the game's never over and never too late,
To change the rules, to rewrite the slate!
What if we cheered for the skill on display?
What if we saw past the jerseys today?
Modern tribalism, a game with no prize,
It's killing connections, it's blinding our eyes.
Let's tear down the fences and find common ground,
See, the love for the game is just waiting around...