The silent cry in my mind
The oracle of our time
Still remains unheard

To count the days and the nights

Passed him up in the desert sands

Thrown out by the time's hands
The clock is of essence
So we are slaves waiting in line


All that's been made you have created
You've molded everything you have

The artist only paints the picture
His mind the framework the canvas


What will be done is erased
Years won't advance the cause or place
Cover your eyes, for what you'll lose

Imagine a smile, traded abuse

We ignore what could be changed

To fill our hearts with pain
And we embrace our own ignorance
To feel again


Until you know there is none, the hope strives on
Because the feel the fear is...

And the voice you hate is what drives you along
And this ride won't wait.