Blood on the Sand - Thrice

We wave our flags, we swallow fear like medicine

We kiss the hands of profiteers and their congressmen

But I’ve seen too much (of this fear and hate)

I’ve had enough (and I’m not afraid)

To raise a shout, to make it clear

This has to end

There’s blood on the sand, there’s blood in the street

And there’s a gun in my hand, or there might as well be

And I’m sick of it — I’m so sick of this

We panic at the sight of different-colored skin

And we’ve got a plan to justify each mess we’re in

But I’ve seen too much (of this fear and hate)

I’ve had enough (and I’m not afraid)

To take a stand, to make it right — this has to end

There’s blood on the sand, there’s blood in the street

And there’s a gun in my hand, or there might as well be

And I’m sick of it — I’m so sick of this

Fear will kill your mind and steal your love as sure as anything

Fear will rob you blind and make you numb to others' suffering

And I’ve felt its touch too many times and I’ve had enough

I’ve had enough!

There’s blood on the sand, there’s blood in the street

And there’s a gun in your hand, or there might as well be

Are you sick of it?

I’m so sick of this

There’s blood on the sand, there’s blood in the street

There’s a gun in your hand, or there might as well be

Aren’t you sick of it?

I’m just sick of this

Cause I’m sick, I’m sick, I’m sick

I’m so sick of this shit