lirik lagu thor younger - cultural genocide
[produced by lim0]
[intro: cbc vancouver]
on sat~rday just after 1:30 in the afternoon, a 15~year~old boy was stabbed in vancouver’s almond park. just 24 hours later, he died in b.c.’s children’s hospital. this is a… teenage boy who’s never gonna learn to drive, who’s never gonna go to grad, who’s not gonna go to college, who’s not gonna get married. and an even more tragic turn when police say a 14~year~old was charged in connection with the death, leaving not just two teens who’s lives were changed forever that day, but countless others
[verse 1: thor younger]
walk out the crows of mourning dress, they the quartermaster
he had a whole lifetime left to sort his steps forward pastor
his clock malfunctioned, and started ticking faster
reminds he her and the smell of regret, memorial’s asters
it grinds the cornea with bloodshed to mud in our peuples
dysmenorrhea, doves fled to a new home when the green spikes go flat
distorted tunnel, blind to the fuel she had and how close she was to the light and how
close to the light she was when i got the call she passed, uh
can’t draw his eyes, but the mother, i see gray on the canvas
but stop this search for despise, one to blame, when n0body planned this
there was a time i engaged victim, nothing outlandish
sigh i stayed to listen to peer pressure, no thoughts of ganesh
[bridge: thor younger]
we’re just kids, we lay flat on the cracked glass dish, uh
we’re just kids, we just lay flat on the cracked glass dish
[verse 2: thor younger]
took first hits from adam’s apple when i was twelve
pit full of confusion, alum to the books on my shelf
acquittal misusage passed, from ones in the same cell
plumage we thought novel silence gave, but then violence paved
nod to the shovel, this my eyelids grave
when i looked in its surface, i saw my purple f~face shook and my family’s hurt
it’s my flawed eyes, in a hurtful state
emotive vandals that handle conflict nonverbal ways
it’s all fun in games till we mortals to nergal’s face
this the new norm, some in the poppy field, some six foot under
winter to lukewarm, no one stops to seal this cultural wonder
some studder, some cry, another boy was lost in the tide of this
culture’s attempt to commit a f~cking genocide
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