With each passing day I realize this world is at its end.
Desperate measures taken late.
Band aids on a festering wound: a dying elephant in the room.
Is this the world we're crying for?
Still we march with burning torches and pitchforks in our hands.
A smokescreen as distraction for the danger that is real.
We revolt against the ones that don't align with what we feel.
A judgement based on DNA, gender, skin and shape.
Desperate measures taken late.
Band aids on a festering wound: a dying elephant in the room.
Is this the world we're dying for?
We count the wrongs but not what's right.
And call ourselves amongst bright.
Our unconditional (in)tolerance is based on equal ignorance.
And here we stand on barricades, waging wars against ourselves.
Our lust for revolution fans the flames that burn it down.

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.