The Effort все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

There are things I just can’t get over, that make me lose sleep and wonder, if the pursuit of happiness could really just be, trying to forget about this money praising society. I need to know how you are supposed to feel when you’ve only lived in turmoil, when the abuse you faced as a child inside you boils, down to the economic stresses your family once faced, and why they turned to drugs, because they were only this country’s waste. Unexpected like all my generation, feeling unwanted and full of questions, it leaves you as the perfect byproduct; searching for answers in the bottom of a bottle, but we’ll never find them in a system like this when loss of living lives are so quickly dismissed, to the people who have always loved me, would only my skin color stop you from butchery? Did your years on ships, did your years building bombs, prepare you for life outside Korea, for life back home? When you would be greeted by a marching parade, with confetti in your hair but you just needed pay. You knew then, you would only be turned away, killers belong in Vietnam and no other place, H.R. couldn’t get what made you this way, it was your sins, all the children she’s killed, America has made me this way. Now I can’t help seeing the parallels between, Jack and I, driving though California and only seeing, the immigrants hired to pick daily luxuries, out of trees as the red sun gets so heavy. Well where the fuck is my tent with the broken mirror, and the Mexican Mañana I’m supposed to take care of? See, I told you this book depressed the fuck out of me, because, “Kerouac’s soul was so lost and lonely.” I think you might be wrong though, it’s America who’s the lost and lonely soul, but we just give ourselves these mindless jobs, so no one else could ever guess or know, that we are all full of shit, passed by Uncle Sam himself

I cant believe what i’ve turned into, Dad, I’m full of hate just like you. I am a spiteful being on account of everything i’ve seen. but all i want is to show i care and live a life that’s all too fair.but contrary to my own views, I’m living like i’m a short fuse. this wasn’t my intention to be a breathing contradiction. I don’t know why its so difficult to change after admitting my faults. I am the product of a flower child, and I’m the thousandth in one square mile. it seems the drugs couldn’t make you love, but they sure could make you numb, frozen to a point in your history, a time before the birth of me when the only thing you had to worry about were your friends and your next score. well now I’m at my own crossroads. squinting to see what my future holds. No matter how much love i preach, I’m afraid of the hate my heart beats. it runs in my family’s blood, it’s in our foundations and every stud. but in this house of New Orleans, i watch the sun rise over me.

We've all spent our lives crawling and struggling just to stay afloat.
scraping our knees on the ocean flood and filling our lungs with salt.
without a soul for miles, there is no one to save me from this black water.
It's the epidemic we face as kids with no mothers and no fathers.
This generation has grown up without a place to call home, with no one to look up to,
and no voice to call our own.We have to understand this before it gets out of control.
We'll have to scrape our knees some more, to get you out of this hole.
but the saddest day is when i found out who you really were:

And Misfortunes
Because when I look into a mirror I see a lost child inside of this decaying body where misfortunes 0build up through time. I am a product of my surroundings, atleast it's what I've been told and I'm seeing it more everyday, the fact that we all eventually will fold. And I'm trying to hold on to the golden days of honesty and clarity but sometimes there's no other way. What the fuck has become of me? As my misfortunes outweigh everything I've learned and everything I say until every last bridge has burned. And now our mistakes and our misfortunes they rain from the sky with instructions on how to grow but all we can do is ask why. But here I am still thinking we can learn, and here I am still thinking our ideas are unworn. Here I am still putting my neck on the line knowing it will get crushed every single time because I truely believe, we can learn from our mistakes and misfortunes, even after all I've seen.

all this time,
i looked up to you and then it turns out,
you were wrong,
so now i guess i'll just have to move on,
plagued with regret
i've still been growing up,
all along,
whatever it takes my will won't break,

I've watched so many run that it makes me feel numb when
I loose a good friend to another pointless trend.
I'm sick of superficial minds clogging the ears of our blind,
blind because they cannot see their own dismal routines.
No matter what is your label, we've got to turn all the tables before its too late.
and before we have the chance to state all the shit that is wrong with this society
in which we belong, where the privileged don't speak.
they're too busy fighting for their green.

The foundations that our fathers have built
have been destroyed by the own very system,
which they deployed. it's gotten so fucked up,
i don't want to be apart of this anymore.
with these backwards rules where everyday is worse than it was before.
i've grown complacent crossing this sinking sand
when my arms outstretched but no one tries to grab my hand.
In the home of the free and the master plan

i'm thinking of a world,
where no one has to suffer,
its not as far fetched as you think,
but my ideas they only bring you laughter,
trust me you have nothing to give back
if you still haven't sparked production,
and i'm thinking of a world,
where people actually care, about the quality of human life,

we are but fish in a bowl,
everyday we're seeing the same view,
and being stuck in this cold, is making me question the truth,
sadly it seems to me that they've got their hands feeding out eyes,
and keeping us too busy to see all we are doing is eating up lies,
well i don't want to anymore,
i'm looking for something so much more,
something that money can't buy,

From Our Mistakes
And I've fit into their mold for the past twenty fucking years in a world that's far too cold, it's trapping all our dreams into frozen tears. And I've put the last touch on my own epitaph before ten it was just too much for this child who would never laugh when we were born into these classes of a hopeless generation and the target is on the masses where no hope equals no motivation. Have we learned from our mistakes or are we just walking backwards? Never knowing quite what it will take to be known as more than just a coward. And it's true we haven't one thing from our mistakes. When will we realize that the stakes are far too high to walk around with these closed eyes and try to find some truth in these lies when this city and this country says you can't live without property while the powers that make you cower say smile big while you live in showers. And it's true we haven't learned from our mistakes. We haven't learned from these lies
walking around with these closed eyes so when will we realize our misfortunes are just too high. Can we learn from our mistakes when our misfortunes, they fall from the sky?

I thought I gave everything I could
And I thought my words finally stood
Above our country’s actions
And above all the violent reactions
But as I see the blood in Burma
My discontent turns to paranoia
When a monk living in tranquility
Loses his life to live in peace

Tear filled hands over everything that’s gone, when an unclear mind does not belong with the greedy eyes of the full and wealthy, you see nothing helps me strive it keeps me healthy, but wealthy is your mind in the zombie state, because you can’t find compassion through hate and you can’t find any answers without asking questions, so just feel free to ask and take notes, straight edge to you, isn’t what it means to me, because we’ve been mixing in accepted self pity, I am not better than anyone else, i still feel pain just like we all have felt (don’t let our morals rot) xed up fists are striking blood shot eyes, and now neither one is better the intentions are compromised I am not better than anyone else, i still feel pain, just like all have felt, we’ll use our strength to make a difference, we’re using our hearts to make others see this

I've been medicated my whole life, clouding my mind until it's dark at night.
And even on the blackest of days, I muster strength to see through the haze.
I've loathed those who don't know what it's like to be a loser in a constant fight.
Because we're stuck in a backwards game where no one gives a fuck if you don't want to play.
Well I've lost so I don't care if anyone sees everything that's been taken from me.
I'm twenty-two with nothing to loose., and I'd give it all away if I had to choose.
Because I've been pegged since day one growing up as a two faced addicts son.
Where everyone loves to preach to me that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

while your heart,
sleeps in your chest,
my sleeve is, pounding loud, and thats why, i raise my fist,
because i've got to let, the words come out,
so don't bother singing along if the voice
doesn't come from deep inside your heart
because these words are more than just a song,
they are spark from which a fire should start,

And I remember it all like it was yesterday, walking into another moved business compliments of our economy. That is where I saw your photo in an army navy store, a U.S. issued obituary and a clean pressed uniform. I could not believe they called you a war hero, and they said you had died with the greatest honor, protecting us from the latest culture that threatened our way of life, the only one that seems to ever matter. ”Did you know him?” I asked the store clerk. “No, but he reminds me of my own, fighting hard in the sand for his family back home, and for his motherland.” ”Well I knew him.”, I cautiously said and walked away, because it may have taken us a quarter decade longer but it’s finally 1984. The Ministry of Truth needs to contact The Ministry of Love, but don’t worry I’ll never forget back in 9th and 11th grade, when Evan wanted to fight over my “Nazi punks fuck off!” patch, censorship and a freshly shaven head, one of the kids who mistook everything Ian said, in “Guilty of Being White” because he was in no way sorry for something he didn’t do, just like I’d say Evan didn’t show remorse when he stood up at lunch and proclaimed to his friends, “Don’t worry, I’ll shoot each one of you a sand nigger, watch out towel-heads here I come!” Some say that’s karma or a well written play; I say it’s far too typical that my obituary never made it to the papers, and was left for some underground song.

I don’t have to tell you things are bad.
Everybody knows things are bad.
It’s a depression. Everybody’s out of work or scared of losing their job.
The dollar buys a nickel’s worth; banks are going bust; shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter; punks are running wild in the street,
and there’s nobody anywhere who seems to know what to do,
and there’s no end to it.
We know the air is unfit to breathe and our food is unfit to eat.
And we sit watching our TVs while some local newscaster tells us that today we had fifteen homicides and sixty-three violent crimes, as if that’s the way it’s supposed to be!

I feared Jesus until I was twelve, and then my father until I was seventeen, still these convictions I have always held, believing in only what I can see, but with blinders over my eyes what can I really see? I’ve thought long on what Bruce said, that is about being an American born, where a beaten dog is drilled into your head, and we have this fear of anyone who is foreign, so we create these hateful names to pacify ourselves and to objectify their skin. Then we turn on the television and buy more shit we don’t even need, if it makes you feel safe so you can plant more seeds of working bees. Hey, I was born in the good old US of A, and I’ve got dead friends, acquaintances, references, coworkers, they can all show for it, and don’t forget the barcodes in my wallet, so can you run my credit and tell me where I belong, at work or another one of your wars. This debt is piling up for a life that gives you a good laugh, the one I want so bad, the one they promised my family that we could have, all if we stayed in line and lived by the rules. I hate that I am just another American, who has no idea what the fuck I want, I guess that makes me the perfect wartime citizen, staying in line for the future they will always just taunt (me on all the school yards, chalkboards, collection bills, grocery stores, war zones, crime scenes, and blinking screens). So now every time I’m out of step, I’m beaten and bruised so it can crush my purpose (Why were we born this way? Will we really die this way?) And now this system has shown me nothing yet, can be considered close to perfect (Why were we born this way? Will we really die this way?) But with these constant wars over our minds, what were they really expecting to find, besides detonated IEDs for brains, and half living creatures that can’t act sane, because when you are a wartime citizen, you can only remember how to listen, no more breathing, sleeping or eating, and don’t get caught like me speaking, about all the sad truths.

Today during my morning commute I heard on the radio, on the news that if I stopped and looked to the east I'd see a pink summer sun rise over the sea. Still I drove on over the Zakim bridge, I couldn't slow down, I didn't give in. My heart screamed stop but my fear said to wait, for job security I'd never be late. And it reminded me of when I was a kid and I promised myself I would always live for the moment each and everyday so I wouldn't have to hear our children say, "Dad did all he could in a world where it's understood dreams die in the heart of the young but as he grew old they died one by one". Now as I tilt my rear view mirror the objects are closer but they do not care if East Boston is just out of reach, these fucking buildings won't let the sky breathe. It seems I'm working on my epitaph. Someday I promise myself I'll put getting to work back on the shelf and I'll tell my kids, "You don't have to live the same way dad did. Do the things in life that will make you happy while making sure they aren't just momentary. I know they say this world is just too cold but that's only if you fit into their mold..."

and i really knew it, you wouldn’t have the guts to say goodbye, so i’ll say it goodbye, you were too busy thinking of yourself and how to make a truth into a lie, so goodbye, but heart to heart we’re better off without another kid who’s stuck on himself and who cares for no one else, because this isn’t a community if there is no you and me and if we don’t have the strength to change ourselves, and i know its hard to say you gave up, so try and hear it from someone else, because the hate you spread it crushed our hearts, so just be honest with yourself. i wear this x on my hand and this heart on my sleeve making it far too easy for the people who are trying to crush me, but they have no idea what its like to be me or to see the things i see, they can only watch me become who i want to be, but they keep pushing, and wishing i wasn’t around, but my voice will tear their ears, they’ll hear us say, from day to day, i’ve listened to what you’ve had to say, but now its time, things are going to go my way, i’m like the kid, who said, i’ll be something some day, and then the world had to come along and crush me, but i’ve found my home, this is were i belong, don’t take that away from me, no one can take this away from me