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letra de language of violence - disposable heroes of hiphoprisy

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the first day of school was always the hardest
the first day of school, the hallways the darkest

like a gauntlet
the voices haunted
walking in with his thin skin lowered chin
he knew the names that they would taunt him with

f-got sissy punk queen queer
although he’d never had s-x in his 15 years
and when they har-ssed him, it was for a reason
and when they provoked him, it became open season

for the fox and the hunter, the sparks and the thunder
that pushed the boy under, then pillage and plunder
it kind of makes you wonder
how one can hurt another

but dehumanizing the victim makes things simpler
it’s like breathing with a respirator
it eases the conscience of even the most conscious
and calculating violator

words can reduce a person to an object
something more easy to hate
an inanimate ent-ty, completely disposable
no problem to obliterate

but death is the silence
in this language of violence
death is the silence
but death is the silence
in this cycle of violence
death is the silence

it’s tough to be young, the young long to be tougher
when we pick on someone else it might make us feel rougher
abused by their fathers but was at home though
so to prove to each other that they were not h-m-s

the exclamation of the phobic fury
executioner, a judge and jury
the mob mentality, individuality was nowhere
dignity forgotten at the bottom of a dumb
old dare and a numb cold stare

on the way home it was back to name calling
ten against one they had his back up against the wall and
they reveled in their laughter as they surrounded him
but it wasn’t a game when they up jumped and grounded him

they picked up their bats with their muscles straining
and they decided they were gonna beat this fella’s brain in
with an awful, powerful, showerful, an hour full of violence
inflict the strictest brutality and dominance

they didn’t hear him screaming, they didn’t hear him pleading
they ran like cowards and left the boy bleeding
in a pool of red ’til all tears were shed
and his eyes quietly slid into the back of his head
dead

but death is the silence
in this language of violence
death is the silence
but death is the silence
in this cycle of violence
death is the silence

but death is the silence
in this language of violence
death is the silence
but death is the silence
in this cycle of violence
death is the silence

you won’t see the face ’til the eyelids drop
you won’t hear the screaming until it stops
the boy’s parents were gone and his grandmother had raised him
she was mad, she had no form of retaliation

the pack didn’t have to worry about being on a hit list
but the thing they never thought about was that there was a witness
to this senseless crime, right place wrong time
tried as an adult one of them was gonna do hard time

the first day of prison was always the hardest
the first day of prison, the hallways the darkest

like a gauntlet
the voices haunted
f-got, sissy, punk, queen, queer
words he used before had a new meaning in here

as a group of men in front of him came near
for the first time in his life the young bully felt fear
he’d never been on this side of the name calling
five against one they had his back up against the wall and

he had never questioned his own s-xuality
but this group of men didn’t hesitate in their reality
with an awful, powerful, showerful, an hour full of violence
inflict the strictest brutality and dominance

they didn’t hear him screaming
they didn’t hear him pleading
they took what they wanted and then left him bleeding in the corner
the giant reduced to jack h-rner

but dehumanizing the victim makes things simpler
it’s like breathing with a respirator
it eases the conscience of even the most conscious
and calculating violator

the power of words, don’t take it for granted
when you hear a man ranting
don’t just read the lips, be more sublime than this
put everything in context

is this a tale of rough justice
in a land where there’s no justice at all?
who is really the victim
or are we all the cause and victim of it all?

but death is the silence
in this language of violence
death is the silence
but death is the silence
in this cycle of violence
death is the silence

but death is the silence
in this language of violence
death is the silence
but death is the silence
in this cycle of violence
death is the silence

you won’t see the face ’til the eyelids drop
you won’t hear the screaming until it stops

- disposable heroes of hiphoprisy

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