Prompt / Lyrics
[Verse 1] Tiny shoes by the doorway Empty beds But the table’s clean They toast in their tall glass towers To the meat of a broken dream Gold forks in our future Silver knives in our trust They smile in their silk and marble While they grind our kids to dust [Chorus] They’re feeding on our children On their hours On their hope Every test Every rent hike Is a hand on a little throat Tear down the old guard Brick by bloody brick If they feast on our future We’ll make their empire sick [Verse 2] They sell fear like candy Wrap it neat in a waiting room Tell us “work hard Wait quietly” While they auction off the moon But I see the cracks in the columns Hear the tremble in their laugh ’Cause a mother’s rage is a wildfire And a father’s grief is a staff [Chorus] They’re feeding on our children On their hours On their hope Every loan Every pay cut Is a hand on a little throat Tear down the old guard Brick by bloody brick If they feast on our future We’ll make their empire sick [Bridge] Who will stand at the school gates? (hey!) Who will chain to the court doors? Who will flood all the boardrooms With the names of the kids they stole? We are not their cattle We are not their field We are teeth We are thunder We’re the bite they never healed [Chorus] They’re feeding on our children But we’re cutting off the feast Every march Every outcry Is a crack in the iron feast Tear down the old guard Brick by broken brick From the bones of their kingdom We’ll build a world they can’t strip
Tags
Gritty protest rock, male vocals with a raw edge. Verses ride on tense picked guitar and roomy drums; bass growls under a tight, marching groove. Chorus explodes with gang vocal shouts and wide power chords, snare pushed forward. Bridge strips down to toms and claps, then slams back in with shouted call-and-response. Rough, live-room mix that feels like a packed basement show turning into a street march.
Duration
2:59
Instrumental
No
Created
2/20/2026