Vastly and taken, among us We walk alone As have we always And shall we continue Our minds aren't always As silenced as we should be We listen and evaluate, As if its our job, to gain the knowledge of you To figure you out. To know our jobs of further corruption. Against anyone and everyone And we watch, as to gain power To know what to do to make you ***** inhabitants of our mother earth live in fear and restlessness. We are the control You, our puppets We decide if and when to free you from your strings Only attached to crosses as To represent religion Falling far from it in your falling out with a god, after being cut Only to figure out you knew nothing of what religion really stood for Because after all? Who really knows? But us. We are complete control. Learn to obey and get into our rythm of speaking, so you lip it, they think its opinions. We.the collectors. Gathering stars In an infinity of black charred sky. We must add color to our canvas. We, gathering your glass tears in our paper jars Throwing them to the sky. So you'll forever remember mourned loved ones until you become that as well. And you think stars are some beautiful representation of life, we all burn out. Some might be. Tears of joy. Proposal on a sunny day. A new family. Warm and fuzzy memories for you to store. But to collectors, stars are to remind you That even in a black nothing land There is still suffering. The sun isn't getting closer But only bigger and still enlarging rapidly As there will always be pain And suffering Tragedy in great masses. Broken hearts. Stars are to show remembrance in bad times. What else is there out in the cold of space? You don't know. Exactly. You know nothing of what is to come. Of what you are to become.