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Estimation moyenne:

Growing tired of bedside resolve
(Politics lay out the pressure)
Something's got to give now
Something's going to break down
I grow tired of writing songs
While people listen but never hear what's really going on now
Tell me what's so wrong now
Clap your hands all ye children
There's a clamor in your whispering
Clap your hands tonight
Hear what the silence screams
Clap your hands
Clap your hands now all ye children
Clap your hands all ye children
There's a clamor in your whispering tonight
For most of men believe hell is never knowing who they are now
(Tell me who you are now)
Finally saved from the outside trapped in what you know
Are you safe from yourself? Can you escape all by yourself?
Clap your hands all ye children
There's a clamor in your whispering
Clam your hands tonight
Hear what the silence screams
Clap your hands
Clap your hands now all ye children
Clap your hands all ye children
There's a clamor in your whispering tonight
Clap your hands
Clap your hands now all ye children
Clap your hands
There's a clamor in your whispering tonight
It's not the lives that you save
But what the silence will scream
It's not the lives that you save
But what the silence will scream
It's not the lives that you save
But what the silence will scream
Clap your hands all ye children
There's a clamor in your whispering
Clap your hands tonight
Hear what the silence screams
Clap your hands
Clap your hands now all ye children
Clap your hands all ye children
There's a clamor in your whispering tonight

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