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Thrice
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Blood on the Sand
We wave our flags, we swallow fear like medicine
We kiss the hands of profiteers and their congressmen
But I've seen too much (of this fear and hate)
I've had enough (and I'm not afraid)
To raise a shout, to make it clear — this has to end
There's blood on the sand, there's blood in the street
And there's a gun in my hand, or there might as well be
And I'm sick of it — I'm so sick of this
We panic at the sight of different colored skin
And we've got a plan to justify each mess we're in
But I've seen too much (of this fear and hate)
I've had enough (and I'm not afraid)
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To take a stand, to make it right — this has to end
There's blood on the sand, there's blood in the street
And there's a gun in my hand, or there might as well be
And I'm sick of it — I'm so sick of this
Fear will kill your mind and steal your love as sure as anything
Fear will rob you blind and make you numb to other's suffering
And I've felt it's touch too many times and I've had enough I've had enough
There's blood on the sand, there's blood in the street
And there's a gun in your hand, or there might as well be
Are you sick of it? — I'm so sick of this
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