What if the lies, the corruption
Are central in preserving
The beauty outside our windows?
What if escaping the political cave means we cannot ever come back?
Should we accept the way things are?
Or take a most dangerous risk and seek more?
As the questions will not answer themselves
The pieces lay detached
Beneath the screams of the victims subject thereof
The pieces lay detached
And this mechanic place keeps moving without needing charge
The screams of the bleeding, suffering go unheard
The cogito claims to know, to grasp that which cannot be known
Information comes from the kings that select and rule
Control!
You will take my hand
You don't know where we'll go
But the air is thick
And we must breathe on
Breathe on
We will breathe on
The pieces lay detatched
Will they be left alone?

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN