/// An aging revolutionary urges their child to never lose their idealistic, youthful spirit of protest ///
Sweetheart, I don't pack the punch I used to
I can't hack it like young punks do
Walking sunburned streets
In our failure we provided you with ruin
But when I die I will not do it
Vicariously
So fight
And spit in their eyes
You were born to survive
Make war if they try you
Just don't ever make your peace
Sweetheart, I didn't wanna let the heat up
Punching down and kicking feet up
A driver in no gear
Oh show me there's no depth we gotta fall to
And don't let the bastards call you
Wise beyond your years
So steal
And don't stop to kneel
Like what's wrong is what's real
Keep stoking the feeling
Just don't ever make your peace
And if they come for you
You run like hell
So fight
You take your rage, your spite
And you hold it tightly
And if they come for you
You run like hell
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