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Survival
fragments of our soul
disintegrating to dust
pulverizes at the core
then flies past us
feathers fall
but there's a sound
a constant march
to the beat of war drums
we are confined, forced
to play our parts
without questioning
or knowing what
the prophecy demands
.
survival
disintegrating to dust
pulverizes at the core
then flies past us
feathers fall
but there's a sound
a constant march
to the beat of war drums
we are confined, forced
to play our parts
without questioning
or knowing what
the prophecy demands
.
survival
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