we're not as stupid as we were told, the years of abuse has made us cold
the love is gone and hate won't hold
we're not the ones to be bred and sold,
we're more then
a small heart beating, repeating the world over and over in a rhythm to make a song of life;
black river, blue skies, two faces in the crowd weaving sunlight,
grey world and white,
taught to be loved but finding not a soul by your side,
we have come from the same place, same stories and tales,
albeit different words but the same sounds, the noise;
when you've been screaming all night cold but no one is there to hear your voice;
words perish into the pages, tears cash in blood and ink-
reflection from the mirror, ugly and faded;
when did it matter when we began to think ?
when we began to sing, bowing to the queens and kings,
breathing the world in and watching all of its sins
and lies, what we know and have seen from our eyes;
unheard, what they don't see..what they can't see,
drawing the world in the shapes we want it to be;
always told that the mind won't hold over the matter,
and dreams are...just dreams, build and bred to be shattered,
in a million pieces to be scattered, so we never find ourselves;
the old road has been bitter, the steps ahead lost to the mist,
echoing the same reason that made us clench our fist;
spoken ill, made to be weak..blindfolded with what they had to teach,
but we learned, as they preached;
the one's who got away,
the one's who got away,
now we suffer, from another siege,
locked and chained, walked through years of tears and defeat;
made weak, enough scars that we won't leave,
tied in love, awoken in dusk..the dawn has always been on the far,
falling prey to their lies as we rust and bleed;
we could never see a mother weep, there is something hollow somewhere deep;
walking to the edge of the world, only to fall and meet,
the one's who got away,
the one's who got away,
they would never know our pain, as we watch another one die,
who are you, I've never heard them ask us why,
if only we could see them cry;
and they still pry on us,
now a black heart beating, repeating the world over and over in a rhythm to make a song of lies;
we have always been more, if only they could ever see the world from our eyes.