The Tradition
As a pointed gun
That does not want to shoot
Throw the ideas into the air

The feeling that
The whole truth
Will not sustain itself
Throw the ideas into the air

It’s like being locked
Or hiding myself away
A hostage to feelings
That were never mine

The Tradition
As a pointed gun
That does not want to shoot
Throw the ideas into the air

The feeling that
The whole truth
Will not sustain itself
Throw the ideas into the air

It’s like being locked
Or hiding myself away
A hostage to feelings
That were never mine
That were never mine
That were never mine
That were never mine