Our Milky Way has gotten too old,
Turned into rust by all our chemicals,
We've decayed and bent ourselves into a cold world

We are no longer acceptable...

This gravity compressed against our chests,
Hearts living in the blue,
Minds have been carrying the stress.
Putting ourselves on the line for less.

We are chemically created with the purpose of decaying.
So I'll blow onto this bullet to make a sweet symphony
Of echoing birds and the sound of the end to our pain,
Rubbing out pictures of our days,
Memories of us in daze,
Replacing them with bullets in our head

•

The thoughts that scream then choke,
Have evolved to the dreams that stream in hope.

Set to one limit, the line that we just crossed,
To breath dry air for the conformance that have lost.
We are an old forgotten creation.

The expectations are in our head.
...too bad we don't think the same.