|
Shallow minds tighten the grip |
|
Killing the last of the poets |
|
He fell down to his knees |
|
And drowned in the cold concrete flow |
|
I long for what's untouched by man |
|
I will dismiss answers based on nothing-ground |
|
I forge dreams to uncoil |
|
I long for what's untouched by man |
|
I even seek answers where they may not be found |
|
I roam these virgin soils |
|
Atlas shrugged, |
|
I could feel |
|
Clouds fell from the mourning sky |
|
They're closing all too soon |
|
All too soon |
|
Leaders of crowds turned stale, unfit to move |
|
Pathetic freaks endorse dream deceivers |
|
Antique festered minds |
|
Reduced to mock desire |
|
Those who create should not corrupt their voice |
|
Hyped is the feeble imitator |
|
Seek and you will find |
|
Beauty to be denied |
|
Bleeding moving spirit |
|
Man bleed the moving spirit dry |
|
Bleed the moving spirit |
|
Man, they bleed the moving spirit... dry |
