Letra de Sense Of Hate

Colour the skin in red, why the black man becomes a Fed. Feed the female to the gator and her bones preserved for later. Tell the baby he is wrong, cut his hands off for what he's done. Put a blind man's dog to sleep, tell the widow not to weep. This cuts too deep. Put a peace sign upon your breast and make freedom some kind of quest. Tell the world that they are wrong, in a poem or a song. Take a stand and kick some butt, before the next one takes a cut. Be aware and not afraid, there's too much sense of hate. Wish you were away, colour the skin in red. Why the black man becomes a Fed, noone knows, but me, it's called democracy. And tell the baby, and he is wrong, and cut his hands off for what he's done. And put a blind man's dog, his dog to sleep, and tell the widow not to weep.