Beat By Symphonic
Lyrics
Skies fall into the hands of false hope
the exit gate there but the vision is blurred
im thinking to myself , humanity is cold.
what if the answer lies within ashes in snow
the largest organ is trembling from fear
feel my breath taken to the ground below
meadows of factories all grinding gears
swarm of warm tears running back the dome
little kid brittle neck smoothing out the easel tip
paint the matter in the air and watch it disappear.
something's wrong with this loveless sun set
hear the wrath when we oppose the gunmen
im thinking to myself, humanity is cold
we are all the same fluid formed toxin
the earth's highness is proudly drinking.
fire heating breeding gauntlets im locked in
the perennial feeling of disgust is taken over
when the paper blossoms out the shaded corners
loner breaching the front to find his polar.
are we troops that flip quarters and strike with mortars
working the fields day in and day out
winter is here and we're told that hope stays out.
I've gotten a glimpse of the core of mankind
a rotten center full up of a hundred bad lies
dirty finger tips and rib cage showing
dried liver and lips and our hunger keeps growing.
a child thrown to the stars and shot to death
maybe this lingers in even the sanest of heads
so simple yet so complex to get
why a face or belief is the reason we bled.
look at the moon and it's safe to bet
this is what we all deserve before we rest
serpentine circling my verbal ring and it's past
common courtesy remedy making it last
i'm shaking a fist fast bursting a pulsars blasts
with a hundred bad lies ascending elevated masks
god's drinking flasks amongst a mass
passing ravaged black stacks of deceit in cans
the poor retrieve these and praise the task
but i'll pass and push away with my stranded hands
see, the delusional eyes of greed are alive
and im smart enough to not be caught in it's sight
im smart enough to be fraught with a bad lie
chastised mind my lime light of life.
cell is smaller, the bunk bed a rotting flower
one big coward, the supreme power is sour
tower points out that living itself is prison
my pistons the freedom changed hours to minutes
do you see me running to the fences
i'm trying to think of something
to get you off my mind
this the expense for being friendless