Well, it's closing time. It's Christmas and your country calls on you.
"What would Jesus do?" reads the billboards driving south from Baltimore.
You'd think we'd gone to war. The army trucks are in the passing lane.
We're asking the rules to change.
Well, in a field of grain, liberty stands with an open hand.
Outside Birmingham, blues man on the corner shares the news.
He says we cannot lose. The beggars on the street they disagree.
They're asking the man to change.
Well, the painter's hands are chained. The poet's tongue is tied. The wizards all have died.
You must choose your side. Politicians pick the pleasure and the pain.
Cnd in the pouring rain, You clench your little fists against the world.
Your screaming. csking the leaves to change.
Little Fists Video (MV)
David Berkeley - Little Fists Lyrics
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Well, it's closing time. It's Christmas and your country calls on you.
"What would Jesus do?" reads the billboards driving south from Baltimore.
You'd think we'd gone to war. The army trucks are in the passing lane.
We're asking the rules to change.
Well, in a field of grain, liberty stands with an open hand.
Outside Birmingham, blues man on the corner shares the news.
He says we cannot lose. The beggars on the street they disagree.
They're asking the man to change.
Well, the painter's hands are chained. The poet's tongue is tied. The wizards all have died.
You must choose your side. Politicians pick the pleasure and the pain.
Cnd in the pouring rain, You clench your little fists against the world.
Your screaming. csking the leaves to change.
"What would Jesus do?" reads the billboards driving south from Baltimore.
You'd think we'd gone to war. The army trucks are in the passing lane.
We're asking the rules to change.
Well, in a field of grain, liberty stands with an open hand.
Outside Birmingham, blues man on the corner shares the news.
He says we cannot lose. The beggars on the street they disagree.
They're asking the man to change.
Well, the painter's hands are chained. The poet's tongue is tied. The wizards all have died.
You must choose your side. Politicians pick the pleasure and the pain.
Cnd in the pouring rain, You clench your little fists against the world.
Your screaming. csking the leaves to change.
Writer: DAVID FRIEDLAND
Copyright: Lyrics © Sentric Music
Copyright: Lyrics © Sentric Music