Cubist Camo Lyrics

We can sharpen the end of a brush, cut a hole in the shape of a gun.
We can poison the shit that we're on, tie a rope to the of a song.
Waging war with the dream we knew.
I'm not there.
It's your art that's killing you.
It's not fair.
You can hide in the back of the bus in your work-week camouflage.
You could poison the shit that they're on when your weekend is just a mirage.
You're at war with the dream you knew, so beware.
It's your job that's killing you.

It's not fair.