Un American Tradition

so label me with the projection of your own past life,
hidden away in the darkest room at the end of a forgotten hall.
buried under the rubble of your own,
lies, deciet, and sexuality,
all to be covered with a mask,
a mask of a rising church...

that paints us with the colors of your own dark clouds
hanging over your head,
as you chastize with shaking fingers,
dripping in the blood,
of a hundred different men,
you lead the other way,
and this lonely child's heart that will never be the same...

i will never be the same
i will never be the same
i will never be the same
i will never be the same...

all our lives,
we were told to be,
what's right for someone else,
unable to live as,
and unable to be,
the mystery known as ourselves
as children we stood there,
straight in a line,
waiting and watching,
and hoping to find,
a glimpse of our future without being confined

well, .times are now changing and soon we'll undo,
the hand-cuffs and the mind-cuffs that held me and you,
we'll never look back,
never stray from our mission,
bringing an end to your un american tradition...