The flowers on my grave,
Jesus saves,
That's the bitter taste of blackness,
Eyes closed tight, pitch of night,
Stare into the face of blindness,
If I'm possessed, if I confess,
Kneeling, feeling the earth beneath,
Stumbling, mumbling,
It ends at the cross,
Undistinguished words make me complete.
We only live inside ourselves until someone takes us out of here.
You've got to stand for something,
You've got to stop the suffering,
You've got to stand for something,
You've got to stop the suffering.
You've got to stand for something,
You've got to stop the suffering,
You've got to stand for something,
You've got to stop the suffering.
Gazing, raising instinctively up,
Warmth to wrap the coldness,
Draining, straining,
All in me waning to muster the faith of boldness,
Teaching, reaching outward and on, to touch what lays before me,
Coping, hoping to find a recall,
Never disappointed in what I see.
We only live inside ourselves until someone takes us out of here.
You've got to stand for something,
You've got to stop the suffering,
You've got to stand for something,
You've got to stop the suffering.
You've got to stand for something,
You've got to stop the suffering,
You've got to stand for something,
You've got to stop the suffering.
We only live inside ourselves until someone takes us out of here.
