The sun is burning to the ground
And no one's stopping it
In lines we follow the leader

Who wears a blue tie as opposed to red
Color states opinion in a neat little box
He says the sun is obsolete

The thoughts are done for us
By blues and reds rather than soul and sun
Some might call it anarchy

The death of the torch
Others call it progress
But when the all holy is tossed

And replaced by a slick haired ego driven maniac
Is that not a step back?
The burning beauty

This being
A separation of light and administration
Yes the greedy ambassadors of illumination should be banned

Before the abusers and the greedy stole it's innocence
Before the man in blue shook hands with one in red
And banned it's glorious shine

Before the ambassadors lied for self-satisfaction
The sun was not obsolete
And now

The only opportunity for progression
Is regression