Four-Fifty-One

Here the man draws the line for separation. (Old Vision.)
Watch the man build up his walls for isolation. (You make division.)
Walk no mile
I'm sick and tired
Of all the cowards at the radio station
No cathartic plot to thicken
To quote the vernacular
I'd say that you're chicken

We're going nowhere
And it's happening fast
A dim future
And a darker past
Somewhere away from here
From past mistakes they often learn
At Fahrenheit 451
You close your doors and let it burn

Pharisees in the church
Time to take a vacation. (Emancipation.)
Pharisees think the world comes to them for salvation. (Booyah.)

The radio is preaching the candy coated good
The record companies and the TV too
No one rocks the boat
Terrified of trouble
Can't tamper with the walls of their sterile Christian bubble
It was never your point to get people saved
You pad yourself with fluff just because you're afraid
I'm not afraid to point the finger now
The choir's so used to the preacher anyhow