PROTEST THE HERO LYRICS

1. Clarity

Without a word uttered
A comparison is drawn.
A distant future, a cluttered past
Amid the stars.
Vague yet persistent, 
Thought lacking consistency.
Unwilling victim of farce.
The loudest voices scream uninspired.
Their numbers vast, their spirits strong.
Quiet choices sing against the choir
The majority is almost never wrong...
Never wrong... Ever... Never wrong.

A laughable assertion
That there might be some connection
(smoke-filled halls)
Adorn the walls with mirrors and misdirection,
Or let it go. [4x]

No common thread, 
No ties that bind.
Just grasping at threads and keep in mind.
Historical analysis
They play a separate role,
But one contributes more to the whole!

Like a saucer sep...
Let's separate and shuffle off this conflict.
My armament will suffocate (will suffocate),
And leave you feeling useless.

We are your beginning 
And we will be your end.
Affluence permitting, a mutual annihilation.

A laughable assertion
That there might be some connection
(smoke-filled halls)
Adorn the walls with mirrors and misdirection,
Or let it go. [4x]

Discussion moot
Argument ended
An aggressive mute
Strumbling defendant
Fiction versus fantasy
One fact remains unclear
How you pretend both franchises stand soley on one tier?!

We are your beginning 
And we will be your end.
Affluence permitting, a mutual annihilation.

I don't care who shot first
Or for the song and dance you've rehearsed.
(a mutual annihilation)
I don't care who shot first,
Or for the song and dance that you've rehearsed.

The maps are divided
And each are traversed.
Aligment in flux for better or worse.
Is the drain finally swirling or are we swirling the drain?
This drought is relieved with acid rain.

This drought is relieved with acid rain. [3x]

(we are) We are your beginning (and the end)
And we will be your end (we will be your end) [2x]

Affluence permitting a mutual annihilation

2. Drumhead Trial

[feat. Kayla Howran And Ron Jarzombek]

  
From the unrelenting beat of a pounding drum, come alive. 
From the ceasing breast of a wicked beast, we survive. 
In the hallowed marriage of sound and revolt, come anew. 
To the hollowed, disparaged - shed and molt, overdue. 

Splintering fingers, gore strewn across each hand 
(Sink deep, stone, sink deep, stone) 
Splintering fingers, gore strewn across each hand 
(Sink deep, stone, sink deep, stone) 
Pray for a way out of here. Pray for a way.

No animal in all the kingdom 
Shall ever strike me down. 
A coward in his finest moment. 
Heavy is the head that wears the crown. 

Be swift and painless, not a glancing blow
To the back of the head, to the back of the head
Be swift and painless, not a glancing blow
(Sink deep, stone, sink deep, stone)
Pray for a way out of here. Pray for a way.

A long, slow pull on the briar. 
Ready, aim... When the fire burns, 
Callusing, topping off the urns, a sound remains. 

Look to the actor in the heavy armor, his mettle shakes.
Listen well to the deafening clamor whimpering makes. 
Look now to the unassuming, unwavering 
Standing before the heavens screaming, 
“Bring on the storm. Bring on the storm. Bring on the rain. 
Bring on the jesters, and bring on the pain.
Bring on the storm. Bring on the rain. 
Bring on the jesters, and bring on the pain.” 

The seed is planted. Let the roots reach far and wide. 
Let it grow tall. Let the rings remain intact on the inside. 
And though the autumn brings a fall of leaves (let it grow tall), 
We come anew. We come anew. We come anew.
[2x]

Look now to the unassuming, unwavering 
Standing before the heavens screaming, 
“Bring on the storm. Bring on the storm”.

3. Tilting Against Windmills

  
Oh what a brave soul. He’s proud to be straight, 
but like a host that feeds, bigotry inebriates. 
And no one is ever been compromised 
for being a white, straight male with two blue eyes. 
And thus, a declaration of unwavering pride 
walks hand in hand with Jesus, matching every stride. 

Pew by pew and row on row, they’re taught to revere him. 
But when they’re taught the wrath of God, they only learn to fear him. 
And fear themselves, and fear they should. 
And fear themselves, and fear they will (God is dead).

Fear the vengeance of a changing tide. 
Fear the gap in your conscience that’s ten miles wide. 
Until you’ve suffered persecution and defied 
misguided accusations, you’ve no right to your pride. 

Those that are truly afraid are ashamed of their own urges. 
Where sex gets buried under rope and cloth, rhetoric emerges. 
Reconcile the truth. Recognize the true deviants and sing, 
“Father forgive me for I have sinned.” 
He might not forgive you, but I will. 
Repent of your ways and we will forgive you. 
There are no exceptions, no red flagged rejections, just open doors. 
For anyone at all, unversed and underwhelmed. 
For anyone at all, disarmed and disavowed. 
All hail the knight of the verbal incontinence, 
tilting against windmills into the night. 
Inanimate objects, they do not pose a real threat. 
Your objection will surely be noted as a historic account of an ignorant prick. 

Inanimate objects, they do not pose a real threat. 
If it’s a sin against God or you, then fuck him, and fuck you too...

4. Without Prejudice

  
Wealth is a sick man’s game. 
Those who have it and those who hunger for it. 
To the victor go the spoils of fame—
those who seek it, and those who abhor it. 

Evil is a very real concept, 
boiling in the bellies of the graceful. 
Toiling in the fortress in their complex, 
to our employers we are faithful. 
A number arises and there’s a spark in the eye, 
obscuring the vision, clouding the mind. 

“I am the authority on who deserves what. 
To continue your prosperity, you’ve gotta pay a little cut. 
We’ll be ruthless and cutthroat and get what we deserve. 
We’ll remove each tooth from each swollen mouth and finger at the nerve.” 

When a hand makes a fist, sometimes knuckles crack and break. 
When that fist strikes the ground, the plates will shift, the Earth will shake. 
Knuckle bones now exposed—true intention, self serving goals. 
Bank accounts that tell of rape. The plates will shift, the Earth will shake. 

Evil is a very real concept,
dancing in the diner to your upset. 
Sharing drinks and laughing through their teeth. 
Their only success is our defeat. 

So drape yourself in the finest velvets, cape, mask, and tights, 
and jump from the closest, tallest building and reach new heights. 
Revel in the adoration you acquire. 
Dive into the altruism you inspire. 
Then sit back and pour a drink, relax 
cause no one sees the other half. 
The same qualities that you despise 
are the qualities you personify. 
So dig deep and find your buried heart. 
I know it’s in there somewhere. 
Acquisition isn’t all there is, 
and no one’s too broken they can’t be repaired. 

Revisions of histories et al. abound. 
It flatters me now. It flatters me now… 
”Hey spin that song back, it’s my favourite. 
It flatters me now. It flatters me now.”

5. Yellow Teeth

Passing judgment with haste and laying to waste 
those who stand before us and dishonour the faith. 
A dramatic opinion, but an opinion the same. 
An attempt now to make right, not to enthrall or defame. 

An opinion piece, one after another. 
Laid fat from feast, one after another.

A man is nothing more than what others claim he is, 
so speak clear and ill of me and so it will be. 
The grating sound of my voice. The yellowing of my teeth. 
Speak up. Speak clear. Speak ill of me.
Speak up. Speak clear. Speak ill of me.

I found myself awake last night. 
May the players take their place, 
repeat their lines exactly to my public disgrace. 
The years exaggerate how horrible it was 
to be stricken silent with no explanation for the cause. 
I can’t be the only one losing sleep 
over things I should or shouldn’t have done. 
They are the rope around the neck. 
They are the blade pressed to the wrist. 
It might seem detrimental, but it’s meaningless. 

Left to my own devices, I am strange. 
I’m a liar—entertained. 

They are the rope around the neck. 
They are the blade pressed to the wrist. 
It might seem detrimental, but it’s meaningless. 
[2x]

A man is nothing more than what others claim he is, 
so speak clear and ill of me and so it will be. 
The grating sound of my voice. The yellowing of my teeth. 
Speak up. Speak clear. Speak ill of me.
Speak up. Speak clear. Speak ill of me.

I am no one to be reviled. 
I am no one to be admired. 
Jumping rope at the end of the street, 
I am everyone, and everyone is me.

6. Plato's Tripartite

  
I forgot to thank you for the blood you shed, 
and your obligatory contribution to the community. 
Are you just dense or so fuckin’ inbred 
you think that all is forgiven and all is forgotten? 
But forgive them of nothing, despite their impunity. 

Oh how the system fails you completely 
when monstrous children get treated so sweetly. 
The violence is praised, the decision cemented 
(they seem like nice kids). 
Crimes go committed, but never lamented 
(that doesn’t change what they did). 

That’s when they lock up an innocent victim. 
The only thing that’s more broken than her spirit is the system. 
They lock up femininity, infected with the illusion that choice is free. 

You made your bed when you were born in your bones, 
so lay back, sweetheart, in a body you only sometimes own. 
Lay back upon cold concrete floors and rest your drunken soul.
What more could a lady ask for than to be treated like a hole? 

Oh how the system fails you completely 
when monstrous children get treated so sweetly. 
Standing before you in suit and tie, 
don’t they just look so nice? (so nice)
Well-practiced tears come to their eyes, 
“I guess their remorse will suffice.” (will suffice)

That’s when they lock up, 
That’s when they lock up your bones, 
That’s when they lock up, 
femininity infected with the illusion that choice, choice is...

Freedom is delicate, cracking under abject catastrophe. 
Stronger than his prison bars are the bars around her memory. 
[2x]

It’s irrelevant, her relation to me. 
No one is innocent if they go free.
No one is innocent if they go free.
When we hand raise the beast, and the beast runs wild, 
we must speak of our own involvement in the rape of a child.

It’s irrelevant, her relation to me. 
No one is innocent if they go free.
No one is innocent if they go free.
That’s when they lock up, 
That’s when they lock up your bones, 
That’s when they lock up, 
femininity infected with the illusion that choice, choice is...

7. A Life Embossed

A breed? No, a series of breeds. 
It’s not a single type or a single gloss, 
but they’re singled out at half the cost. 
Cast off and cast out and almost lost 
is the innocent cry of a life embossed.
The innocent cry of a life embossed.

A judgment based in human error. 
A snap decision made in crippling terror. 
A sentence passed down from shaking hands. 

Caving and twisting to frightened demands of the disillusioned masses 
to slap the wrist of the “lower classes” of life. 
To slap the wrist, to slap the... wrist

It will be no defense, despite the nurturing influence. 
The nature’s decided, the plan is divine. 
And if you should feel remorse anywhere inside you throughout the course 
of this abomination, you should feel grateful—
grateful to feel anything at all. 
Grateful to feel anything at all. 
Grateful to feel anything.
Grateful to feel anything.
You are the heartless. 
You are the soulless beast. 
You are trained to kill, but unwilling
You are trained to kill, but unwilling to bear witness. 
Grateful to feel anything at all. 

Maybe you should concentrate 
on the vicious people and the alarming rate 
of murderers and drug dealers with whom you share 
no regard for life before you set and ensnare the same victims. 
Outlining the qualities by combining varied breeds. 
Breed specific legislation falls flat on its only short snout. 
A death squad assembled. Why put up a fight? 
The round up resembles a Crystal Night. 

In relation to temperament, they pass with an overwhelming percent (86.4%). 
The American pit bull v. the American dream. 
The task is ours to keep our dogs and children safe. 
Disregard the media, or the province, or the state. 
With a different target every decade or so, 
you can wait until they break into your home. 
Repeat the lies you’ve bought and sold and say, “You should look up the facts” 
when you should look up the facts your fuckin’ self. 
Or you could stand for a dog that’s not your own because your own damn dog is next. 
I’m proud of every pit bull, but ashamed of my own country. 
I oppose any legislature that should try and stop me 
And if a pit bull is a weapon, you’ll have to pry them
And if a pit bull is a weapon, you’ll have to pry them
I won’t stop until they lift these, these ridiculous bans. 
And if a pit bull is a weapon, you’ll have to pry them
And if a pit bull is a weapon, you’ll have to pry them from my cold, dead hands.

8. Mist

  
About a gunshot away there’s a place that I long to be -
tippin’ bottles with me old cock. 
When the shit’s all said and sorted, I plan to settle down and stay - 
one middle finger to the landlocked. 
From the first time boatin’ or there’s not too much I can recall. 
I kissed a plastic cod and drank rum till I was friggered. 
I decided then and there that I’d return, even if I had to crawl. 
Something outside was broken and something inside me, triggered. 

It’s a long ride home, but it’s always my destination.
It’s a long ride home. 

If the sun bursts apart at the end of the world, I don’t think I will give a damn 
as long as I’m surrounded by friends and pints in goddamned Newfoundland. 
So here’s to Newfoundland. 

I breathed a sigh of relief the next time steppin’ off the plane. 
It’d been a long, hard, vapid winter. 
Johnny and the boys were waiting there ready to explain, 
they weren’t there to drive us, just a welcome back to the Island. 
So we taxied to the venue to prepare for the night to sweep.
Slept in the back room until the India showed up. 
When we finally took the stage, it shifted beneath our feet. 
We stood on the shoulders of proud Newfoundlanders.

I think it bears repeating
I think it bears repeating 
I think it bears repeating that no one buckled under. 
We all got bit by the cod that we all kissed. 
It left an infection in our lips and a longing in the mist. 

You’re as deep as the grave, and you’re marching to the heartbeat of the land.
You’re as deep as the grave, and you’re marching to the heartbeat of the land.
Yes, I be a Newfoundlander B’y. Not by birth, but in my heart. Yes, I be a Newfoundlander B’y.
Yes, I be a Newfoundlander B’y. Not by birth, but in my heart. Yes, I be a Newfoundlander B’y.
You’re as deep as the grave, and you’re marching to the heartbeat of the land.
You’re as deep as the grave, and you’re marching to the heartbeat of the land.

9. Underbite

So how you fuckin’ feeling tonight? 
We’re (insert name here) from unimportant, 
and I’m about to mimic some image of a rock and roll singer I have under lock and key. 
Without the faintest hint of irony 
that I’m flashing my pearly whites to sustain my mediocrity. 
So is everyone having a good time tonight? 
Good, I’m glad (I couldn’t actually care less). 
You guys are the best crowd that we’ve ever seen, 
seen with these old dead eyes. 
Blind to the stage or even my own lies. 

So hey ho, let’s go. Let’s start this contemptible “rock” show. 
Blinding lights to hide the hand up our ass in this puppet-sock show. 
Two sewn on eyes, repurposed and made new, 
torn from an aging suit for a sense of déjà vu. 
Thumb underbite. I bite my fucking thumb, 
and hope you catch a thread, and slowly come undone. 

An illusion seldom spoken. An understanding between you and I 
that the ground that you stand on is somehow less than mine. 
An allusion to a broken home, 
left on the street and chilled to the bone. 
So hey, we still feeling good? 
Now you comprehend our complex relationship—consumer/consumed. 
You’re just some stupid kid and I’m a megalomaniac. 

Shedding defenses for an honest creation. 
Placing yourself in the stocks on the strap. 
You’re disgracing your effort by conforming to textbook 
performance of music to fill in the gaps, 
and it’s bullshit. 
It’s bullshit. Be honest, this can’t be what you wanted, 
if what you write about means anything to you. 
Rather than pure vanity, people might connect with sincerity. 
Don’t just pray the next generation learns from our mistakes. 
Let’s not repackage the same old performance. 
Original content is so much more rewarding. 
Let’s not repackage the same old performance. 
Original content is so much more rewarding. 
I know that it might be quite cliché, 
but if all the world is in fact a stage, 
then this stage—this here goddamn stage— 
might just be all the world.

10. Animal Bones

Why do you torture me so?
You sit across the table with both eyes closed.
You speak in myth and fable, and stand unopposed.
The animal bones reveal themselves from deep within your mane.
They reach for ethereal light.
The ancient spears rise from her shoulders and riddle your frame,
marking the first time it was done right.

And that’s not all that haunts me - the death by fire of a child
who waits so patiently. And we are the ones
who set the standard by which we are to be measured.
Measured, measured!
Some things can never walk again cause sometimes a step is all too vile.
The path of five innocent men who are only capable of walking one last mile.

If I could live another day over again, I’d choose not to.
The successes and failures of days passed are constant.
The horizon promises days ahead.
If you won’t quit, then I won’t.

And this I swear to you tonight
upon these former embers
you fanned until they were fire.

We are nothing without the thousands of voices that make the choir.
Nothing without the thousands of voices that make the choir.
We are, we are, we are still life.
(We are, we are, we are still life)
We are, we are, we are... still life

Begging and pleading, not dying, but bleeding out. (Still life, still life)
Begging and pleading, not dying, but bleeding out. (Still life, still life)
Oh, the chemical reaction, the chemical.
Oh, the chemical reaction.

When the walls fell, with arms wide.

11. Skies

Cough, gasp, and sputter, 
spinning helplessly down toward the earth. 
A loss of control, the sky swallows whole. 
Spinning down, down. 
Forever falling down, down, down. 

But is it entirely a flightless fall? 
No deceptive currents, no rise at all? 
Maybe it’s too naive to not jump ship 
when deviating so drastically from the initial script. 

Tremble beneath the weight of inevitability, 
and all the casualties therein. 
Cower in the shadow of the ever-present sun, 
witness eclipsing, eclipsing, eclipsed. 

Is it completely void? Or is the truth in shade? 
Are all the facts before us a masquerade? 
Suffering no deceit, no selfish lies, 
we stand in our own crypt and we mobilize, 
waking up to blazing heat 
and the stench of rancid meat. 
Don’t have the patience or the time to repeat mistakes. 
Like high, hot hauls, through highway tolls 
with bigger brothers for hungry trolls. 
Each horn sharpened by eye sockets torn, 
standing on the graves of the worn. 
Welcome to the place integrity is born.
Heart in the right place, just missing the mark. 
Feigning exception is a shot in the dark. 
With no remorse and no regret, 
is anybody listening yet? 

Tremble beneath the weight of inevitability, 
and all the casualties therein. 
Cower in the shadow of the ever-present sun, 
witness eclipsing, eclipsing, eclipsed.

Bask in uncertainty. 
Strange things can happen when faced with adversity. 
Ask and you shall receive, 
or swing frantic your arms. Fate is nothing but a nervous belief. 
I don’t believe the end is in pavement.
I don’t believe there’s anything beneath. 
I don’t believe there’s death in the basement, 
no I don’t believe. 

No I don’t believe.

Embrace the fall, there is no end. 
No ambiguous hypothesis to comprehend. 
No bruised and battered egos in descent’s entire ethos. 
No magnificent creation myth. No wind to pad the story with. 
Only I will never quit, or watch my brothers quit, 
but I’ll lower down a lifeboat if you’re abandoning the ship. 
“True sailing’s dead,” should have been the first thing said 
before the writing could be written, before the writing could be read. 

The wreckage was never found, 
but the black box was recovered. 
The message therein profound. 
In our final moments our true names are all discovered. 
So let it fall, fall. Even if it turns out to be futile, 
at least we couldn’t ask for a sky so clear or a day more beautiful. 
They’ll never find the wreckage, transcending all human languages. 
Just a promise and a final message: the descent is all there truly ever is. 
Just a promise and a final message: the descent is all there ever is. 
Just a promise and a, just a promise and a final message: the fall is all there ever is. 
Just a promise and a final message: the descent is all there ever is. 
Just a promise and a, just a promise and a final message: the fall is all there ever is. 

Stumble beneath the radar, big holes in each great city 
is all the evidence I need. 
Knowledge often beckons and can lead astray. 
Whisper release me, release me, release. 
Dive into an endless sea. 
No reason to falter no plan supersedes. 
Altering frequencies, 
but we welcome the change. Fate is nothing but a nervous disease.

Cough, gasp, and sputter, 
spinning helplessly down toward the earth. 
A loss of control, the sky swallows whole. 
Spinning down, down. 
Forever falling down, down, down.







PROTEST THE HERO LYRICS