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I've met that point in my life. |
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Want came to need. |
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Burn these fields of corn, that surround. |
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My harvest gone at the price of maturity. |
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But these remains I've left to rot will be resurrected again and again |
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by the next generation of children who want to change minds |
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with the stain on hand. |
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But, it's deeper than this, I'm not the only one who sees, it lies in diversity; |
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acceptance to a degree, only to a degree. |
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The fire that once occupied my eyes has spread to destroy this world |
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I have grown. You have nothing new to scream beyond your fields |
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and not a second of patience to learn from me the same. |
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This time I harvest the crops of my past. |
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As far as the demigods are concerned, I've sold myself out just the same. |
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I've burned bridges to feign brothers. |
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Brothers of nothing more than a simple label. |
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So now, I'm in control after all, for myself I prove I still am. |
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But within these fields, they'll say I never was |
