Texty: Hostage Calm. Lens. Pushing The Paradigm.

I woke with worn hands and heavy feet
In the cave I dug when I fell asleep between dreams.

If I had that shovel, I?d bury the laws
That taught us to imitate man?s greatest flaws

We?ll rethink the wars
We wage on unknown shores
And how we insist the world
Marches to our drums

What if we screamed for the day
When words like these don?t seem so far away?

What if it started with the way we looked at our decay?

And if all we need is what?s
Scattered here beneath our feet?
Smithereens of the ideas that melted
Into chaos from convention?s heat?
Constantly eclipsed by long-term job security,
Then we?re falling short.

If I could just see a face,
Get a glimpse
Of the way we would look
If we stepped out of the dark

Find a cure for spinning backwards
Just because we?re moving,
Doesn?t mean we?re moving forwards.

So you can let the lights of your plastic society
Radiate against the nighttime smog
Convinced this world is brighter.
But if we only learn to chase the dollar
And all the evils that every dead president gladly welcomed
Then may good fortune follow us into the fire.