Set sail, that soft tear,
in certain shadows kept,
are lost souls waiting there, waiting for regret.
For in these times, our blinding light,
our beacon ever lit.
We'll merge our thoughts into one, one that they see fit.
However dark these corners are,
however changed your mind,
the control of you, or the control of worlds is past that point in time.
Although their days have long since past,
and their rule is now far back,
they still lead their armies, not just bodies,
where their words went off track.
We have the power to lead anew,
a brand new kind of thought.
But still these pictures bleed and differ,
from the mass, bought before they're brought.
So we hide, the gentle ones, pushed up against the grain.
Saw before they left the womb, that there was shine on that brain.
We saw the suits, the perfect hooks, the bait, so divine.
In plaster shacks, somehow we saw,
under comfort of eyes unopen,
beneath the tables, under our feet.
The floorboard is still filled with cracks.
Lost our names, true names.
For what we always need,
message beaten into a boy, now in the form of fun.
There will always and forever be a greed.
No matter what, how or who,
we know we cannot win.
So sit these days on lonely park benches,
living in your pen.
Work the day, so you can say
that this can all one day end.
As if our lives were not enough,
we now need to train, to play, to win,
those faithful games, to dance and drink.
and to go, filled with lies, onwards.
Like after each day's work, home,
there lies a prize.
I can't blame anything, but these terrible beings,
a cycle set into motion.
A thought process they knew would work if set into the ocean.
Ocean, no eyes, just a mind, searching for direction.
For if you could make the choice, of where to go and how.
You know that you would do no harm, but others, can you tell?
And so you gave your only gift, the only power behind your fist.
You closed your eyes, tied your ties.
To give control, so they may lift the veil.
A veil that hangs in front of shades,
shades they must of missed.
And now we wait in their idea of heaven, no choice, with anxious arms.
Do we still have time to start again tomorrow?