I woke up one day,
the sun had gone away.
While the moon
was nowhere to be seen.

In the growing cold,
the ice was gaining ground.
While time was growing old.

soon there would be no-one
to remember what had been.

The lines in the distance,
join into one.
we're heading to the
vanishing point.
If we disappear;
maybe it would be
a better difference.

Awry this earth's become,
frayed by changing fiction.
Dreaming of what,
once never has been.

Sold as a vain token,
for an declining return.
Fortold by our history.

Soon there will be no-one,
to tell of what was seen.

The lines in the distance,
join into one.
we're heading to the
vanishing point.
If we disappear;
maybe it would be
a better difference.

Ah, how long it's been.
Century and century of unoriginal sin.
We've lied and killed,
****** and been ******.
Grown out and up then round and back in.
Our head held high ideals,
over our dirt grounded feet.
The terror we've seen,
Each person we've ever been.
Looking for something beyond unoriginal sin.

Means of production for
repetition of an old proposition.
More for more's sake,
each against each other.
All on the take.
A fight to be "self-made."
So, come,join the staid.
Share or care, compassion.
All are in America; unmade.

When you think of all things that are bad, that you can't change.
All that which is negative in your mind.
Don't get caught in anger, despair or hate.
Just be kind.

We'll never know which of
our mistakes were lucky breaks.
Or if indecision;
was the right choice.
All we know is where we are,
if not what we are.
Even if;
we've made a mockery,
of the world's tickery tockry.
So walk on, sing strong,
with a heart in your voice.

I'm sorry, but I cannot give,
without being given .
Though my fee is fair.
So please; Do pay.
If you want me to care.

It's just they way it now is.
A brand new start,
Since I privatised my heart

My blood may run green,
But I'm not mean.
Or full of malice.
But only if you pay,
Can I give you more
Than fay sympathy.

It's just the way it now is.
A brand new start,
Since I privatised my heart.

The front line of desire;
where we're sold labels and lifestyles.
Recreating us to sell us back to us;
becoming the ashes of our vanity's fire.