If It Speaks
I am not the son of God
And I am not the only one
If it speaks, then it can bleed
And if it's green, then it can break
The tyranny of the voice
In the voice of the crowd
The crowd, the crowd
I'm not strong, I'm not proud
But if it's small, you can pull it down
Down, down, down, down
Down, down, down, down
The tyranny that's hurting me
The tyranny that's hurting me
And all I wanted was you
And the sweet relief of death
And all I wanted was you
And the sweet relief of death