Blood on the Sand

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 other's suffering And I've felt it's 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