When it’s gone the world’s astray
When it’s here the monsters are kept at bay
The cold breath in the morning air
That rises from the, “that’s not fair!”
The hot tempered rising scream
That we surpress as we boil and teem
The icy stare we fire at will
That gives the crowd its frightened chill.
We think that we know so much
About our rights and wrongs
But often we are swept away
Out to sea by angry songs.
Will we ever see ourselves?
Will we ever see our friends?
Or will we fill in truths with lies?
To find our way around again.