dark lenses tint the windows that are under my eyelids to hide from the light like i m stuck in a fire pit burning up a sigh with no desire to live through these lies so i suffer in silence culture of violence truth stuck behind my lips bound gagged and whipped stripped divided and split eatin words with a forked tounge and now the grumble of my stomache s got the thump of a war drum a battle goin on inside nobody s safe from clowns are playing russian roulette with paint guns they run in place and they call it the human race losin pace with that stupid look on their face shootin blanks and all they ask is why i wear these glasses and all i can tell them is hell it s good fashion all they ask is why i wear these glasses and all i can tell them is hell we re acting like men of steel with a thin protective shield gathering the raw footage that can never make the final reel so we cover up the stories that eyes tell make way for what we take to the grave it doesn t bind both souls buried in a faustian bargain bin in the cemetary there s a joust between god and men talkin loud but ain t sayin nothin used to have daily discussions i doubt we ll ever talk again and all they ask is why i wear these glasses and all i can tell them is hell it s good fashion all they ask is why i wear these glasses and all i can tell them is hell 