Speaking of Tongues Michael Franti & Spearhead

You don't have to be so scared to share what's inside
'cause you're Daddy's little superstar
And you're Mama's little butterfly
Fly high

A strange strange litany of verses and reverses
Adlibs and rehearses
Clouds burst and words cursed
An argument breaks out
It's one we've all heard before, it's boring
Had us all snoring from the first line
One after another chimed in perfect time
Tired rehashes of petty cashes and mismatches
You shoulda coulda's
And "why didn't 'tcha dida's"
Crippling snippets aimed at the heart
To inflame and impart blame
Framed like Mumia
Verbal diarrhoea
Creating chasms between the souls of two
Or two billion
Nations torn apart
Station to station damnation
With much deliberation and very little consideration
To the return on the damage from the altercation
Collateral condemnation
Then denyin' like colorization of an old black and white
Create a revision of the recent last night
The fight that started with two words, "I'm right"