Pissing In The Wind Lyrics

Sole & The Skyrider Band Pissing In The Wind

And there's a sucker born every few seconds suppling an
empty bottle
Capital at full throttle pushing us through pot holes
It asks nothing, it takes everything
With the sword in your stomach it asks "are you
hungry"?
Is the water free of pesticides and Prozac?
Do you want to dance under the watch towers of the RNC,
or will you skim the papers
And forget those who were tortured
In front of a TV, watching fascism in its final throes
Their pasty fingers strangle the planet to feed a
dragon
I know how it feels to feel nothing
From drugs I've taken, years they've stolen
Half the world still on them
And I'm not out to make friends or even a difference
Times are changing back and all that's left is
aesthetics
Make the words count call out the ground beneath your
sneakers
Sneak through the borders without a visa
Bury your money in secret don't loose sleep if you're
helpless

I'm not pissing in the wind
I'm pissing in the pond
Get out the pool
The chlorine stings my eyes

And the middlemen are little men whittlin' my prophets
to a pittance
When they dinnerin' with other middlemen
Holding i-phones to the sky for the modest mouse of the
future
And I can't afford to pay my taxes or get a taxi from
the airport
So I admit I come of bitter
Cuz life has handed lemons, but I helped to grow those
lemons
In hopes that I could show those lemmings
A million ways to starve to death in third world USA
When atlas shrugs we'll chop the trees and build our
homes this way
I've been dying on my feet since the day I learned to
walk
A trail of ash is in my wake and on that day I earned
that chalk
Don't think to hard but don't act too quickly
Just cuz everybody's f..ckin' me don't mean they out to
get me
I gave kidneys, they handed kidney stones
That's how it goes simply
The thankless rule us their tanks encircle us
We beg for food or the kids will die in front of us
And you know he don't bless us
Although the grace of his rays will always blaze us

And I don't cool of in that pond, I loose sleep
Say music journalism is shallow, but thats too deep
You hold a mirror to a junkyard and call it an import
In todays economy man, we don't need imports
We need real talk y'all pick that low hanging fruit
And when the revolutions comes man I'll know who to
shoot
F..ck a mash up when we crash up I'll know who to blast
up
You know it's violence when the real record gets passed
up
The world is dumb, don't you remember in 'Nam?
Intelligent songs every time you turned the radio on
Those days are gone, so I'm pissing in the wind for
Tupac and Biggie, for Pete Seeger and Woody

And for the riot police, this urine's for you
And for the journalists who act like police, this is
for you
And for the bands that sing like police, this is for
you
Your band is a bland vision, but that ain't nothing new