Fix what’s broken
If  it isn’t broke, then break it
The  last of our scene are circled with pitchforks
Yelling, “bleach out all the colors. paint it black and grey. kill off all your heroes. destroy whatever makes you feel unsafe.”
So write off all of your old friends
Tolerance  is a well-swept path to hell
Build  a shrine to your resentment
Tell me again what a rough hand you’ve been dealt
Recirculating  the worry
Holding onto your pain
It doesn’t really get better
That’s just something they say
So,  bleach out all the colors
Paint it black and grey
Kill off all your heroes
Destroy whatever makes you feel unsafe