| I saw the sun rise for the the last time
|
| I watched it leave the Earth and leave us all behind
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| All the poor children
|
| Will never know
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| The strength of their innocence
|
| How quickly it goes
|
| God’s special little creatures
|
| Could they have saved us from your poorly plotted arrogance?
|
| Now they inherit the land
|
| The blackest of all plagues
|
| No one will visit their graves
|
| Not even dirt can be saved
|
| Is it so foolish to think
|
| That we don’t all sink to the same place?
|
| And to the travelers I ask
|
| Will you show me hell?
|
| Have you met the devil?
|
| I want to meet him, too
|
| I want to ask him about God
|
| Why he’s abandoned you
|
| Why he’s left me alone
|
| With nothing left to love
|
| Why he’s taken the world from us
|
| While he hides above
|
| And travelers say:
|
| Son
|
| Are you so blind you cannot see?
|
| What little from the world
|
| Can you offer me?
|
| What’s even left to take?
|
| What kind of argument can you make?
|
| What are you really trying to save?
|
| Because all I see is a world in decay
|
| I wish the cold would break
|
| But the winds keep coming
|
| To draw back the light
|
| The dead weep for the world tonight
|
| And I see him now
|
| As the sun sets for the last time
|
| A reflection of my broken self
|
| Burning the lake of fire
|
| We all carry our demons
|
| And we make this world our hell
|
| This world is our hell
|
| The dead weep for the world tonight |