days grow cold,
habits grow old,
we see the light,
we walk to what's bright.
though we still look back,
to what is black,
where the past is told,
and our minds were sold
we could hear
the laughs and tears
of our childhood spoken
out in the open
"the future is near
let us innovate
look at our peers
and create"
and here we stand
on the broken road,
on the broken land
on the broken code
of sanity,
of grace
of humanity
of race
we stand tall
on the ground of fear
close to our fall
in the sight where we're
the only ones alive
with monsters at our feet
with flashlights pointed
in the war of heat
where we reach our hand
for our beloved
as they fall into the oblivion
like a woven
string cutting loose
the darkness takes fire
the final end
chomping in its desire
for death.
is this the future,
is this life.
is this what we call
'tomorrow?'
