Is this the world we live in?
Where our children will grow
And we will die?
In the shade of an old oak
Sits a man dressed in white
With a perfect red rose
Nestled in his mane.
His eyes are bloodshot,
His hands are pale.
His face is flushed,
With bushy white hair.
Father time rests against his chapel,
Watching the world play out below.
He waits among us here
In this desolate place.
For his chance to soak up the sun.
And as the days grow old,
And nighttime blooms,
The darkness that creeps in,
Will light up the room.
Enlighten me, old spectre,
On the truth that you hold,
So dear.
Is this my legacy, as you see fit?
I wander through the scars of worlds not dead.
Through battlements, wreaking of death,
With not a body to be found.
I trek across the sands,
As they tear flesh from bone,
And hear the agony of humanity,
Screaming through a microphone.
Through music we hear stories,
Of torn worlds and colliding dreams.
Of children laughing, children playing,
Of politics and greed.
And in the dark we lie in wait,
For the new day to unfold.
We'll start the day all over again,
And watch it fall once more.
So I'll ask again.
Is this my legacy?
He answers solemnly,
With a gentle nod.
His silence remains unbroken.
My frustrations grow, they're paramount,
I need something more.
In anger, I turn to walk away,
This surreal world flushing down the drain.
And as my eyes breach this world where we reside,
He stands before me and says;
It is through death,
That we feel remorse.
It is through hate and hurt,
That we feel love.
It is through loving,
That we feel destruction.
And when you see something beautiful,
You must destroy it.
Because beauty is the fire,
In the mind's eye,
That sets ablaze the dreams of this world.
Through chaos, feel deliverence.
Through fire, fear ice.
Through death, grow stronger.
Deliver to this world your own epitaph.
Tell them ALL your story,
As YOU see fit.
For we all,
Are the avatars of our own divine.
Our own existence.
The twisting torment of reality,
That wrenches from us our sanity,
That destroys our lives,
And delivers us from anonymity.....
Is this same reality that holds us....
Binds us....
Creates us....
And nestles us in the eyes,
Of the ever watching sun gaze.
What are you searching for?
What is it you want, child?
Do you seek love?
Do you seek happiness?
DAMN LOVE!
DAMN HAPPINESS!
IT IS IN THE FIRES OF CHAOS THAT YOU WERE BRED!
AND IT WILL BE IN THOSE SAME FIRES THAT YOU WILL DIE!
And what once was....
Will become nothing...
Back into obscurity we will settle....
Our moment to shine long gone....
And all you ever asked for was someone to smile at you.....
Someone to hold onto....
To make whole once more your broken pieces,
With the beauty of this world.
And the image of what TRUE love is.
Do not seek it.
I warn you.
It will destroy you,
Long before your time.
So tell me.
Young soldier.
What have YOU learned today?
This world is dead.
And so am I.
Where our children will grow
And we will die?
In the shade of an old oak
Sits a man dressed in white
With a perfect red rose
Nestled in his mane.
His eyes are bloodshot,
His hands are pale.
His face is flushed,
With bushy white hair.
Father time rests against his chapel,
Watching the world play out below.
He waits among us here
In this desolate place.
For his chance to soak up the sun.
And as the days grow old,
And nighttime blooms,
The darkness that creeps in,
Will light up the room.
Enlighten me, old spectre,
On the truth that you hold,
So dear.
Is this my legacy, as you see fit?
I wander through the scars of worlds not dead.
Through battlements, wreaking of death,
With not a body to be found.
I trek across the sands,
As they tear flesh from bone,
And hear the agony of humanity,
Screaming through a microphone.
Through music we hear stories,
Of torn worlds and colliding dreams.
Of children laughing, children playing,
Of politics and greed.
And in the dark we lie in wait,
For the new day to unfold.
We'll start the day all over again,
And watch it fall once more.
So I'll ask again.
Is this my legacy?
He answers solemnly,
With a gentle nod.
His silence remains unbroken.
My frustrations grow, they're paramount,
I need something more.
In anger, I turn to walk away,
This surreal world flushing down the drain.
And as my eyes breach this world where we reside,
He stands before me and says;
It is through death,
That we feel remorse.
It is through hate and hurt,
That we feel love.
It is through loving,
That we feel destruction.
And when you see something beautiful,
You must destroy it.
Because beauty is the fire,
In the mind's eye,
That sets ablaze the dreams of this world.
Through chaos, feel deliverence.
Through fire, fear ice.
Through death, grow stronger.
Deliver to this world your own epitaph.
Tell them ALL your story,
As YOU see fit.
For we all,
Are the avatars of our own divine.
Our own existence.
The twisting torment of reality,
That wrenches from us our sanity,
That destroys our lives,
And delivers us from anonymity.....
Is this same reality that holds us....
Binds us....
Creates us....
And nestles us in the eyes,
Of the ever watching sun gaze.
What are you searching for?
What is it you want, child?
Do you seek love?
Do you seek happiness?
DAMN LOVE!
DAMN HAPPINESS!
IT IS IN THE FIRES OF CHAOS THAT YOU WERE BRED!
AND IT WILL BE IN THOSE SAME FIRES THAT YOU WILL DIE!
And what once was....
Will become nothing...
Back into obscurity we will settle....
Our moment to shine long gone....
And all you ever asked for was someone to smile at you.....
Someone to hold onto....
To make whole once more your broken pieces,
With the beauty of this world.
And the image of what TRUE love is.
Do not seek it.
I warn you.
It will destroy you,
Long before your time.
So tell me.
Young soldier.
What have YOU learned today?
This world is dead.
And so am I.
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