Abre La Boca

It's eight in the evening, the
workday's done, it's a job you hate,
and you gotta do it right, with it you pay
for your whims, your comfort, and what?
you feel like something's missing, you say
it by painting on the wall.

The next day you pass by where you
made your mark, and there's nothing left,
a blast of
pressure water made sure that
no one could read your dreams.

They know that the blisters on your hands
will always bleed. You don’t
protest because you’ve felt the pain
of the kicks, their orders have been
injected to shape you into a
foolish, obedient puppet.
They know you’ve got your mouth shut,
because as a kid they prepared you
to bow your head and
not get sore from looking down too much,
they know you’ve got your mouth shut, you
don’t give them any trouble, you let
them sleep. Do you let them sleep? No! You don’t
let them sleep.

They don’t care that you have the same
nightmare every night, they know you’ve
got your mouth shut, it’s so hard
to part your lips and say enough already!

You pay for your whims, your comfort, your
vices, and what? You pay for that with your
silence, we all know it, what’s the point
of flying like a caged bird? when
you can soar like the birds.
Open your mouth and show them your teeth!