Mourning the loss Of what we thought we would become... As we were once.
As history repeats itself We find no solace, only hell on earth. To peer upon our actions and reactions as a whole As though expecting these circular motions To produce a new and different outcome Is by definition, truly insanity. We must break away from comfort to be truly free.
Moulting the spirit Exposing new and open minds To challenge everything And abandon compromise
Ecdysis of the stagnant Methods creating binding ties Shedding the skin of restricting Progress in these turbid times
Never too late to embrace Changes for good To be what we want to see in the world To leave our pride behind us And advance To sever ties with all we detest
When we relieve ourselves Of accountability to stand against The actions of others, we create room for monsters To relish in acceptance And stand at odds against us In a world without consequences Will we provide disservice in ourselves And be left completely defenseless?
Moulting the spirit Exposing new and open minds To challenge everything And abandon compromise
Ecdysis of the stagnant Methods creating binding ties Shedding the skin restricting Progress in these turbid times
Never too late to embrace Changes for good To be what we want to see in the world To leave our pride behind us And advance To sever ties with all that we detest
Be not the weakness adhering to reason Disproven time and time again Be not the weakness adhering to reason Disproven over and over
All these new instruments of terror A plague induced complacency In the frightened, blind, and without teeth. Amidst atrocities and horrors Remain steadfast forever fighting back Abandon faith and revery For these things will not save you In these divine and writhing strands For these things will not save you You must design with thine own hands.
Mourning the thought of what we lost We will live up to what we become
Changes in our behaviour age of darkness, erasure and failure to stay aabove the rising flood and breathe in the air that stings our lungs
Weak and wailing Beneath a failing Infrastructure Of stolen cultures
Hands are tracing And misshaping A future fading Unless something is done
What will we become?Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
