| Fall into lucidity
|
| And drink in the fear of disillusion
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| There is no solemn way to behold this
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| There is no way to escape the shock
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| The filter is decaying now and I see
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| That though He called us diamonds
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| These diamonds are covered in filth
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| The stench of our parade
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| Is no longer the stench of victory
|
| The bodies I hung as trophies
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| Were my brothers
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| There is no glory in the death of men
|
| Perceiving God I broke the souls of the fallen
|
| Their final words never escaped my mind
|
| At the peak of the monolith I saw
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| God fall and shatter into dust
|
| But the dust did not dissipate in the wind
|
| Nor was it washed away in the rain
|
| His ashes would stain the valleys of my mind
|
| The god I thought I knew only stood as an icon
|
| The true deity would be found in the deepest trenches of fear
|
| In the truest peaks of discovery
|
| His image would be seen as true perfection
|
| His image was beautiful
|
| His image in the man with his foot to the throat of Mother Earth
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| The spiteful wretch reduced to a prototype
|
| This planet made obsolete
|
| Humanity unchained from the sinking corpse
|
| Men standing as gods
|
| Our legacy will not outlive our designs
|
| And we will outlive time |