We pursue flux progression, exalting hollow inventions,
Of finite projections, to medicate with distraction.
Listen to the voice entwined within your soul.
The heavens speak in collided tones.
Listen to the rhythmic pulse that yields control.
Our prophetic words remain in limbo.
Be still, we are surrounded by the silence of the deep,
Have peace, yet we wander without sleep.
Be still, we must subdue the veil of our flesh and bone.
Have peace, and open our eyes to see that we are never alone.
Listen to the voice inside that calls your name.
Our roots connect beneath our father's tree.
Listen, melodies commune in our domain,
But our souls seek refuge across the galaxy.
Day after day after day, and night after night after cold bitter night.
We wander these streets like ghosts, dancing just out of the reach of each other’s sight.
We cry out to each other, longing to connect in more intimate ways,
Yet we bury our hearts deep in our chests, too afraid of what the others might say.
Humbly haunting the servitude of our disease.
Adrift in open graves, as servants of the slave.
To meet an end, your means corrode, skylit eyes bereaved.
The rapture of the brave, never finding what we crave.
Make it louder.
The core of our existence is found in the pulsing waves of our united sound.
Our consciousness is born deaf from the drone of our own silence,
But if we cry out together then we will conduct an echo.
Echoing tones of our spiritual desire.
Humbly haunting the servitude of our disease.
Adrift in open graves, as servants of the slave.
To meet an end, your means corrode, skylit eyes bereaved.
We are the raptured brave.
You are never alone.
We are together as one.
Listen to the voice entwined within your soul.
The heavens speak in collided tones.
Listen to the rhythmic pulse that yields control.
Our prophetic words remain in limbo.