The Whistles In The Cold

It never had to be this way

The blood of the sleeping sun has fallen upon our heads
Siphoning the crumbs of stability that remained beneath our feet
We roam the earth as witnesses

To a breathing cesspool of violence
We have built empires of dust and leaf on borrowed time

And your children are listening
And covering their young eyes
Shielding from the flames
A prophecy foretold upon the altar of prejudice
Never meant to take shape
Never meant to emerge from the abyss

It lives
Walking upon the broken backs of silenced warriors

Listen to the screams that echo from within

You have elected immobility
And your children are listening
And covering their young eyes
Listen to the screams that echo from within the walls that you've built

What is the price of your heads now should we be so fortunate

We must accept ourselves for the truths
That lie behind societal mist and fallacious morality
The human animal was not birthed to be altered