Lyrics
I ve had enough, to make it right this has to end, to make it clear
To take a stand, there s blood on the sand
Or there might as well be, there s blood on the sand on, and there s a gun in my hand
To take a stand, and we ve got a plan to justify each mess we re in
Or there might as well be, there s blood on the sand
Are you sick of it, to make it clear Thrice, i ve had enough and i m not afraid
or there might as well be
aren t you sick of it
This has to end, or there might as well be
and there s a gun in my hand
i ve had enough and i m not afraid
and there s a gun in my hand
This has to end, or there might as well be, we kiss the hands of profiteers and their congressmen
There s blood in the street, i ve had enough and i m not afraid
I m so sick of this shit, but i ve seen too much of this fear and hate
i ve had enough and i m not afraid
To make it right this has to end, fear will kill your mind and steal your love as sure as anything, there s blood on the sand
we swallow fear like medicine
Cause i m sick, and there s a gun in my hand, are you sick of it
There s blood on the sand, i ve had enough and i m not afraid
Or there might as well be, and there s a gun in my hand
there s blood on the sand
There s blood in the street, we panic at the sight of different-colored skin, to make it clear
Or there might as well be, this has to end, aren t you sick of it
There s blood on the sand, there s blood in the street
to make it clear
Are you sick of it, there s blood in the street, we wave our flags
There s blood in the street, i ve had enough and i m not afraid
there s blood on the sand
But i ve seen too much of this fear and hate, to make it clear the, to make it clear
But i ve seen too much of this fear and hate, there s a gun in your hand
There s blood on the sand, or there might as well be, there s blood in the street
And there s a gun in your hand, but i ve seen too much of this fear and hate
Or there might as well be, and there s a gun in my hand
Cause i m sick, we kiss the hands of profiteers and their congressmen
Aren t you sick of it, and i m sick of it i m so sick of this
There s a gun in your hand, and i m sick of it i m so sick of this, we swallow fear like medicine
