| This world, my heart, my soul.
|
| Things that I don’t know.
|
| The icicles they grow.
|
| They never let me go.
|
| Scars are left as proof.
|
| But tears they soak on through.
|
| Things I’ve done.
|
| My young.
|
| My unforgivable youth.
|
| We land on the horizon. |
| The passion in their eyes then.
|
| What they think of islands and much more in their size.
|
| Bountiful and plentiful and resource to provide them.
|
| Supplies slim. |
| Morale when so heavily inside them.
|
| Now steadily declining.
|
| Return is not an option as necessity denies them.
|
| With this they choose to dive in.
|
| Now along the shore and so aware of their arriving.
|
| Other children of this land prepare to share in their surviving.
|
| A pigeontry of feathers stands his majesty with treasure.
|
| Now the material things that kings that could never last forever.
|
| But secrets of the spirit world and how to live in harmony together.
|
| Unbenounced to him his head would be the first that they would sever.
|
| And stuck up on a pike up along the beach.
|
| Kept up as a warning to the rest to turn away from their beliefs.
|
| And so began it here. |
| And for 500 years.
|
| Torture, Terror, Fear til they nearly disappear.
|
| This world, my heart, my soul.
|
| Things that I don’t know.
|
| The icicles they grow.
|
| They never let me go.
|
| Scars are left as proof.
|
| But tears they soak on through.
|
| Things I’ve done.
|
| My young.
|
| My unforgivable youth.
|
| Ways and means from mistreated human beings.
|
| A slave labor force provides wealth to the machine.
|
| And helps the new regime establish and expand.
|
| Using manifest destiny to siphon off the land.
|
| From native caretakers who can barely understand.
|
| «How can land be owned by another man. |
| Warns one can not steal what was given
|
| as a gift. |
| Is the sky owned by birds and the rivers owned by fish.»
|
| But the lesson when the heated, for the sake of what’s not needed.
|
| You kill but do not eat it.
|
| The excessive and elitists don’t repair it when they leave it.
|
| The forests’s were cleared, the factories were built.
|
| And your mistakes will be repeated by your future generation doomed to pay for
|
| your mistreatments.
|
| Foolishness and flaws, greed and needs and disagreement.
|
| And you rushed to have the most, from the day you left your boats.
|
| You’ll starve but never die. |
| In a world of hungry ghosts.
|
| This world, my heart, my soul.
|
| Things that I don’t know.
|
| The icicles they grow.
|
| They never let me go.
|
| Scars are left as proof.
|
| But tears they soak on through.
|
| Things I’ve done.
|
| My young.
|
| My unforgivable youth.
|
| As archaeologists dig in the deserts of the east.
|
| Appeared 100 meters wide and 100 meters deep.
|
| They discover ancient cars on even older streets.
|
| And a city well preserved and most likely at it’s peak.
|
| A culture so advanced, and by condition of the teeth.
|
| They can tell that they was civil, not barbaric in the least.
|
| A society at peace. |
| With liberty and justice for all.
|
| Neatly carved in what seems to be a wall.
|
| They would doubt that there was any starvation at all.
|
| That they pretty much had the poverty problem all solved.
|
| From the sheer amount of paper, most likely used for trade.
|
| Everything’s so organized. |
| They had to be well behaved.
|
| Assumed they had clean energy, but took to no enemies.
|
| Very honest leaders with overwhelming sympathies.
|
| Religions kinda complex. |
| Kinda hard to figure out.
|
| And this must be the temple.
|
| This White. |
| House
|
| This world, my heart, my soul.
|
| Things that I don’t know.
|
| The icicles they grow.
|
| They never let me go.
|
| Scars are left as proof.
|
| But tears they soak on through.
|
| Things I’ve done.
|
| My young.
|
| My unforgivable youth. |