Reality is drawn with the tears of blood shed
Not hard to see the dawn of the rising of the dead
We muted the screams and silenced the victims
What better ink than blood can we use to depict them
We've grown immune to the violence of the broken and bent
We've mistaken their silence for their consent
We hear these cries and shrieks and laugh unaffected
We see wet eyes and reeks of death , pretend we can't detect it
We taught our descendants how to deploy their brains and dart
We forgot that we can't mend this ,not unless we tame our hearts
Amidst the fires of hell ,yet cold to the bone
Not one of us feels well, this world is not our home
In a world as such where lives are worth less and less each day,
Why should I fight for my own and not eternally rest ,you say?
My heartbeats are synchronized to the pulses of yours
I retreat to your dark eyes , can't repulse no more
Can you return all the blood I shed ?
Can you turn my black roses red?
