Songs of Hope - Nineteen Ninety Nine

It was the year of nineteen ninety-nine

And I killed someone without even trying

It was the year of nineteen ninety-nine

I painted my nails while the blood was drying

It was the year of nineteen ninety-nine

And I was the reason someone was dying

It was the year of nineteen ninety-nine

And I was hailed as a hero, implying

———

That this nightmare I bought into

That they made me a servant to

All my holdings are sectioned off

I wear pristine white bleach-stained cuffs

———

Is this dream so holy, holy

Will this metaphor hold me, hold me

Is this dream what I want really

Will these bloody hands show me, show me

———

It was the year of two thousand and five

And I was building my empire and high life

It was the year of two thousand and five

Nobody told me oppression was so rife

It was the year of two thousand and five

And I was watching the TV with my wife

It was the year of two thousand and five

And I thought my life was filled with so much strife

———

That this nightmare I bought into

That they made me a servant to

All my holdings are sectioned off

I wear pristine white bleach-stained cuffs

———

Is this dream so holy, holy

Will this metaphor hold me, hold me

Is this dream what I want really

Will these bloody hands show me, show me

———

It was the year of two thousand and ten

I was writing my songs like now and like then

It was the year of two thousand and ten

And I didn’t question, I didn’t upend

It was the year of two thousand and ten

I did not know what happened to left-behind friends

It was the year of two thousand and ten

And I had my talent, my means to an end

———

That this nightmare I bought into

That they made me a servant to

All my holdings are sectioned off

I wear pristine white bleach-stained cuffs

———

Is this dream so holy, holy

Will this metaphor hold me, hold me

Is this dream what I want really

Will these bloody hands show me, show me

———

I didn’t look back as I left my neighbours behind

I didn’t look out at the whole world’s children, maligned

I didn’t look back as I left my neighbours behind

I didn’t look out at the planet dying, in binds

———

That this nightmare I bought into

That they made me a servant to

All my holdings are sectioned off

I wear pristine white bleach-stained cuffs

———

Is this dream so holy, holy

Will this metaphor hold me, hold me

Is this dream what I want really.

Will these bloody hands show me, show me

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———

If you like this piece check out my Twitter my handle is @FSairuv and I post about human rights, social justice, and the environment.

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