when did it begin?

and will it ever end?

the way you take the muscle from the song

and kinda swing it

you lay it on

and I aint one of your friends

losing all the grain

and now you say it

now why would that be me?

and why would I agree

to keep it in my head

and what you think is cold

the nature of my soul

sorry man

I aint gonna be told

let it all be

I wonder why

you put this on me

I speak my mind

its sorta funny

Im violent with the hands in my head

they kind of move

but movin gets me nowhere

now you can all decide

and you can tell your lies

but who you call your friends

and what you think is cold

the nature of my soul

sorry man

I aint gonna be told

let it all be

tangle it in the ends

heart in hand

lookin for the blood

of the white man

lookin for the day

when I can be an indian

after all this time

I get my revenge

but I, I aint no indian

I have to kill

with what I can

dream of their fight, dream of their death