Texty: Emily Wells. View From A Blind Eye.

It?s all over the news
another roadside suicide, another hotel too
another public place, another mother?s face
I can?t see? I can?t look? I can?t look
but I?m greedy with my freedom
On our heads? On our heads
the blood?s flowing, we go without looking, but not knowing
In my hands. in my hands. in my hands,
yeah, your loss is my loss, even without my looking
my looking?

Around and around and around
calling it calling it out
way past ripe into rotten
spoil no longer, no longer

It?s gotten into the air
yeah, the smell of death is everywhere
It creeps across the ocean
like a grease fire
It comes pouring down on the crops and the ground
and all through the town it whispers
the names of the ones who have gone before
by the hands of the bombs and the guns and the war
I can?t see I can?t look I can?t look
but I?m greedy with my freedom
it?s time
we start looking

Around and around and around
calling it calling it out
way past ripe into rotten
spoil no longer, no longer

And so it goes and so it goes, on and on
We?ll take a body count in the morning
We?ll blame it all, all on them
We?ll take a body count in the morning
We?ll blame it all on religion
We?ll take a body count in the morning

(Thanks to Emily for these lyrics)