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Every step that we tread |
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The dead are behind us |
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Throwing shadows out over our heads |
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And they live far in front of us |
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No oceans left to cross |
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No mountains left to climb' |
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Cause that's what |
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I've been told |
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And it's got so hard to look around |
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And see just who can save you |
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If you don't have a pot of gold |
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Was there ever a time |
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Like this? |
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As the noise of the past |
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Builds up into a crescendo |
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The layers of rubbish makes their plea |
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Amplified a million times or more |
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But our heads just can't cope as we fall |
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Into the arms of the waiting mystics |
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Books burning, barrels turning |
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A billion wasted futures light up the night sky |
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Small hopes flash past the [unverified] |
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While foreign forces wait and pray |
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And a fear of the future is so deep in our hearts |
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That they'll all but destroy ourselves |
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Like the centuries old feuds |
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Being updated with high tech weapons |
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In the end, it's not the future |
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But the past that'll get us |
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I always believed [unverified] like this cost lives |
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That's why |
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I was always in line for the sacrifice |
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But now my eyes point ahead |
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Away from the ghosts of the dead |
