Standing here, I realize you were just like me trying to make history.
But who's to judge the right from wrong.
When our guard is down I think we'll both agree.

That violence breeds violence.
But in the end it has to be this way.


I've cut my own path, you've followed your wrath; but maybe we're both the same.
The world has turned, and so many have burned.
But nobody is to blame.

It's tearing across this barren wasted land.
I feel new life could be born beneath the blood stained sand.