| Holding my arms folded molded in bronze
|
| Rodin this golden era with a song
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| Long gone from it’s formative norms sits the dawn in it’s fawn
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| Calling a warning that we mourn for the born
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| Cause of alarm ain’t because of these arms here
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| Because of these arm chairs the comfort that I fear
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| Could come for my son
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| What’s our competence done
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| It compliments none our confidence won
|
| They blaming they like its coming from some
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| Common denom confidant we the sum of the one
|
| Summit to come ain’t a summer with sun
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| Ain’t a number of funds to escape this
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| Faceless tasteless the invisible and weightless
|
| Wrath of ideas that are divisible by nature shape us
|
| Don’t ask where the cape was
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| Just ask where that cape canaveral can take us
|
| And they gone
|
| The future came in disproportions
|
| On a shaky circuit heard the verdict they’ve been deserted
|
| Braving the surface gazing from Hayden
|
| Waving from Earth is our daily service
|
| Worst is a coming
|
| Earth is succumbing numb to the purpose of our becoming great
|
| Subservient state awaits its Permian fate mayday hurry escape
|
| The bile projected the piles of wreckage
|
| Is a message to every child at seven miles a second
|
| Is how they left it, decrepit
|
| Exiled rejected x’d out reflected on the red Nile
|
| The dead smiles of skeptics kept it’s vow to protect it’s plutonium Newtonian
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| perspective
|
| Showing theres no new home for men accept it
|
| The smog is brimming our star is dimming
|
| Showing nothing but the far faint shard of living
|
| And they gone
|
| The dewey-eyed they got their mind on right
|
| The nihilists how they wanna dry my sight
|
| The dewey-eyed they got their mind on right
|
| The nihilists how they wanna dry my sight
|
| Say I have no right to fly my kite
|
| Say I have no right to shine my light
|
| So I bind those two to fly by night
|
| And I kill my days to do so
|
| We got our home pillaged by the killers on thrones
|
| Who fought villagers
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| Drones who sought privilege on the littlest stone
|
| Prideful death left to sift through it’s bones
|
| While we still in the smoke filled biosphere quilting this dome
|
| Filthy rich turned to filthy alone
|
| Only left to atone for the fire here
|
| Die or find a pioneer
|
| Hoping one is breathing
|
| Cus breathing is the only thing admired here
|
| And they gone
|
| The dewey-eyed they got their mind on right
|
| The nihilists how they wanna dry my sight
|
| The dewey-eyed they got their mind on right
|
| The nihilists how they wanna dry my sight
|
| Say I have no right to fly my kite
|
| Say I have no right to shine my light
|
| So I bind those two and fly by night
|
| And I kill my days to do so |