The Drive Home
(spoken)
How fortunate we are to embark on the sails of death. A boundless ship riding the winds of nowhere. Some choose to jump. Some don't choose at all. But most never even board. Yet here we sit in close verbatim of passengers passing stories from generations like tokens. These siren stories bend and break, but build regardless. And still the loudest of thundеr and word cannot pierce the drums of thе ignorant. Not even a rattle of sympathy. Unseen things linger just outside our field of view. Painful things. Horrible things. Things which once caught glance, you cannot turn away, unless your heart is sunken without rapture. The quiet palpitation of calm on the surface. Were not the loudest of song could jostle us all free until their own song sings...until their own song sings
Up on a hill
We watch in awe
As the blood spills
As the pipers die down
As the voices dry out
The world is mad
The drive home confirms
Excuses are made
As the whole world burns
As the whole world burns
We tell ourselves a lie
Over and over again
We try to deny
All that we’ve seen
But I cannot hide
No matter how hard we try
To shut our eyes
This is real life
Amongst the fog
That secrets keep
The path divides
And the future is bleak
As history repeats
We tell ourselves a lie
Over and over again
We try to deny
All that we’ve seen
But I cannot hide
No matter how hard we try
To shut our eyes
This is real life
We tell ourselves a lie
Over and over again
We try to deny
All that we’ve seen
But I cannot hide
No matter how hard we try
To shut our eyes
This is real life
