Wilshire Protest - Cold War Kids

I am marching with the protest

I got so much to say, but I’m only here to witness

There’s a war inside my head

And I’m surrendering to weakness

We are separated by steel and glass

In traffic trapped on the freeway, everybody is a DJ

Looking down at our phones for the fastest way to get home

Don’t text me that you’ll be late

I can wait

My chemicals are spiking like a lie detector

Dopamine, serotonin, happiness is not the answer

We dream of being plucked from obscurity

We are divided by false gods and hyped-up leaders

We binge on the news or flip you off on the bleachers

We worship talent, but we don’t see that anybody can receive it

First you must believe it

So keep your nosebleed seats

I’d rather be irrelevant

What if I cross over and nobody remembers it?

Will we stay together?

Even if I never get discovered?

This is the west coast, the dream at the end of the line

Is this is the promised land?

The gold rush?

L.A. divine?

L.A. divine?