A scope widened, in a frame suspended
A view appendage holding a crew surfaced
In a battleship full of fools
Above a sea as dense as a mother's love

Scattering shrapnel across a glass lake
Full of neanderthals with cast iron fists
A bunch of mouth breathers, treat me like a name-sake
But they can't see through things as transparent as race.
It's hard to keep this pace, It's hard to keep this pace, when people try steppin' on your shoelace

Every rose has it's thorn, yeah it's true, they've grown many-a-thorn.
That's why we must realize this world's full of heart, but embedded in the vessels it contains the foundations of pain.
Mother tries to remind us of her balance in nature, but we're too focused on the worst, in the worst of ways.
Instead just take a minute to think that the worst is why we have the best, and without these two extremes we cease to exist.
We resist the notion that the worst is the best, and in this we lose our touch with nature's nest.

That's why I ask you not to resist,
To break the glass lake, and unweld your fists
To mend with nature's nurture, and become her future
And rest assured that you're nature's kiss.