Texty: Place Of Skulls. Lost.

Colors in the sky are changing but briefly
Rearranging the way we're thinking
Return the joy that we're desperately seeking
Not a chance as we continue sinking way down
The moon and stars reflect uncharted courses
While straight and narrow paves the way to the source
With talk of peace yet war we endure
We've lost the race to the death on four horses... they ride