Four-Fifty-One lyrics

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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, No cathartic plot to thicken, of all the cowards at the radio station. to quote the vernacular, I'd say that you're chicken. Chorus: We're going nowhere, and it's happening fast, a dim future, Somewhere away from here, and a darker past. from past mistakes they often learn, you close your doors and let it burn. at Fahrenheit 451, Pharisees in the church, time to take a vacation. Pharisees think the world comes to them for salvation. (Emancipation). (Booyah). The radio is preaching the candy coated goo, the record companies and the TV too. terrified of trouble, No one rocks the boat, It was never your point to get people saved, can't tamper with the walls of their sterile Christian bubble. 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 preaching anyhow.

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