• 标题:Hands Held High
  • 歌手:Linkin Park
  • 专辑:Minutes To Midnight
  • 卡拉OK评级:1★
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    Turn my mic up louder, I've got to say something
    Lightweights stepping aside when we come in
    Feel it in your chest, the syllables get pumpin
    People on the street, they panic and start running
    Words on loose leaf sheet complete coming
    Jump in my mind, I summon the rhyme I'm dumpin
    I'm healing the blind, I promise to let the sun in
    Sick of the dark ways we march to the drumming
    Jump when they tell us that they want to see jump
    Fuck that, I want to see some fists pumpin
    I missed something, take back what's yours
    Say something that you know they might attack you for
    'Cause I'm sick of being treated like I have before
    Like I'm stupid standing for what I'm standing for
    Like this war's really just a different brand of war
    Like it doesn't cater to rich and abandon poor
    Like they understand you in the back of the jet
    When you can't put gas in your tank
    These fuckers are laughing their way to the bank
    And cashing their check, asking you
    To have compassion and have some respect
    For a leader so nervous in an obvious way
    Stuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replay
    The rest of the world watching at the end of the day
    In the living room, laughing, like, what did he say?

    Amen... Amen... Amen... Amen...
    Amen...
    In my living room, watching, but I am not laughing
    'Cause when it gets tense, I know what might happen
    The world is cold, and bold men take action
    Have to react or get blown into fractions
    Ten years old, and something to see
    Is another kid my age drugged under a jeep
    Taken abound and found later under a tree
    I wonder if he thought the next one could be me
    Do you see? The soldiers that are out today
    That brush the dust with bullet proof vests away
    It's ironic, at times like this you pray
    But a bomb blew tha mosque up yesterday
    There's bombs on the buses, bikes, roads
    Inside your market, your shops, your clothes
    My dad, he's got a lot of fear I know
    But enough pride inside not to let that show
    My brother had a book he would hold with pride
    A little red cover with a broken spine
    In the back, he hand wrote a quote inside
    'When the rich wage war, it's the poor who die'
    Meanwhile, their leader just talks away
    Both scared and angry, like, "what did he say?"
    With hands held high into a sky so blue
    As the ocean opens up to swallow you
    -= Linkin Park - Hands Held High=-