VERSE 1 (Swamburger)
Look at me… with a finance of pardons, I’m allowed to be whatever my land shows you and allows to see. Liberty… boy she’s looking slim to me. Exercising right or purging from the sight of persons binging on the views they like. Look! Pleasure principles schooling light hearted dimwits with disposable wick sticks… exposing tit, tat, toe… in every tail told to jit, jack, joe and prick too. You should really look at what we did to you. Nothing! We tax our existence and attempt to disappear, quietly bluffing just to say we’d amount to something. Look mom, nomad… bitter we are with no bags to carry on the images of looking like we had a standard to follow. Man you’re tomorrow. Answer the question in the bottle. How do I get out of your blindfold when I’m told to look for depth when death threats the breath of liberty’s best bet?

HOOK (Brad Register)
Over mountains of depression we will climb,
Just to wake our sleeping lives,
It’s a battle we’ve been facing in our minds,
But to blame our human nature is a waste of time.

VERSE 2 (Alexandrah)
Looking through the roof,
Identity’s near dead
Replacement games, material aims,
and public schools pretend
That the ruse is fruitful
To illusion that it holds
With the proof of useless certainty
They worthied search to never know
Now look, Sentiments reflect
In impulse of the current youth
And detriment excels
With swell of sweet abuse
Their medicine’s not preventative,
Their practice apparatus cold,
Pills are prescribed to drive a sedative
Straight to the seat of your soul
Now look
Mister, misses are just equipped for surface
But one of three’s not meant to be it all
From non-identifying gripe to
Strong enough belief for letting go of what we saw
We run to danger disguised as brighter future
While to ourself a stranger
Flagging down a wakeful state in cityscapes of crave
For feeling new’s a likely doom to captive of crusade.

HOOK