Tarred

We ain't reading the same book let alone the same page

Only two forms of expression silence and rage

And if a phone call at Christmas is the best that we can do

Shame on me and shame on you lord

I know pride is at the root of our mistakes

A flag of truce for each other's sake

And I wish these children knew ya the way I did back then

What's it gonna be when chance don't come again

Tarred by the same brush and hollow is the sound

Raising up a white flag just to tear it down

And I'd forfeit every difference I just wish you'd come around