Blood On The Sand

We wave our flags, we swallow fear like medicine We kiss the hands of profiteers and their congressmen But I've seen too much (of this fear and hate) I've had enough (and I'm not afraid) To raise a shout, to make it clear This has to end

There's blood on the sand, there's blood in the street And there's a there's a gun in my hand, or there might as well be And I'm sick of it — I'm so sick of this

We panic at the sight of different-colored skin And we've got a plan to justify each mess we're in But I've seen too much (of this fear and hate) I've had enough (and I'm not afraid) To take a stand, to make it right — this has to end

There's blood on the sand, there's blood in the street And there's a there's a gun in my hand, or there might as well be And I'm sick of it — I'm so sick of this

Fear will kill your mind and steal your love as sure as anything Fear will rob you blind and make you numb to others' suffering And I've felt its touch too many times and I've had enough I've had enough!

There's blood on the sand, there's blood in the street And there's a gun in your hand, or there might as well be Are you sick of it? I'm so sick of this

There's blood on the sand, there's blood in the street There's a gun in your hand, or there's might as well be Aren't you sick of it? I'm just sick of this Cause I'm sick, I'm sick, I'm sick I'm so sick of this