The Rising

Duration

2:42

Genres

Indie Pop

Lyrics

I wash my hands of his fever The heat went to his head Burning down resistance Heats the place up instead And you can feel the stiffness Discomfort and disbelief He didn't think the rising Would be coming from the street He had called on the rhythm For the movement from body to soul He had called on the rhythm To make the groove of how far we gotta go I wash my hands of his static The wave he can't upend The body of dominion Be surfing on amends And I can see his desire To pacify to appease He didn't think the rising Would be coming from the street