| Eyes blooming like a flower when the petal swells
|
| Eyes heavy like metal and kettle bells
|
| Eyes open, scoping for the lies that the devil sells
|
| Eyes cry tears 'til the sea level swells
|
| Ears hear metal shells and rebel yells in combat
|
| Ears hear the voices of my dead comrades
|
| Ears don’t hear the same sounds as my mom and dad
|
| Sounds reminiscent of Hiroshima and Stalingrad
|
| And now it’s every man for themselves
|
| Long since every product got ran from the shelves
|
| The fires burnt out and the riots, they’re done
|
| And now it’s just the survivors, we’re starting from square one
|
| In order to survive, you gotta be flexible
|
| The drinking water turn a person to a vegetable
|
| No food available, eat whatever’s edible
|
| And keep every move we make impeccable
|
| They’re looking for us
|
| It’s a mystery
|
| Why we’re still surviving
|
| Can’t keep repeating history
|
| To the verge of extinction
|
| A tapestry so thick
|
| This mess will tear up natural selection
|
| Even Darwin
|
| Couldn’t see this coming
|
| Walking 'round on blistery feet eating mystery meat
|
| Never doubted we would let history repeat
|
| I never doubted we would live to see our karma set in
|
| I never doubted it would end up in Armageddon
|
| I never doubted we were never meant to be in cubicles
|
| I never doubted we would end up hooked on pharmaceuticals
|
| I never doubted for this planet we were never suitable
|
| I never doubted we would kill everything that’s beautiful
|
| But somehow we keep keeping on
|
| Instincts solid like the ground that we’re sleeping on
|
| Even though it’s war and there’s never gonna be a truce
|
| Still sleep, still eat, still trying to reproduce
|
| Living day to day, it’s hard to see the big picture
|
| Some said it was written in the scripture
|
| Others said that God is a lie and the present is the proof
|
| But only all the people dying get to know the truth
|
| It’s a mystery
|
| Why we’re still surviving
|
| Can’t keep repeating history
|
| To the verge of extinction
|
| A tapestry so thick
|
| This mess will tear up natural selection
|
| Even Darwin
|
| Couldn’t see this coming
|
| The campfire about to bring the pot of stock to a simmer
|
| Our stock of hope’s low, searching for a glimmer
|
| Otherwise the road ahead stays getting dimmer
|
| You could drown in despair if you’re not a strong swimmer
|
| Post-traumatic stress affecting most if not all
|
| Abandoned by the few who were supposed to shot call
|
| Reminisce of buying groceries or clothes at a mall
|
| But our food reserve grows rather small
|
| So we pick up and we move with only what we can carry
|
| The true heavy load is the memory of those we had to bury
|
| Seen enough death to last a couple hundred lifetimes
|
| Every last drop of oil drained out the pipelines
|
| Now we on foot, life pondering, no strategy, wandering nomadically
|
| It’s a miracle we’re still alive
|
| I feel I’ve got no will or drive
|
| But even though we don’t know where we’re going
|
| Know we will arrive
|
| It’s a mystery
|
| Why we’re still surviving
|
| Can’t keep repeating history
|
| To the verge of extinction
|
| A tapestry so thick
|
| This mess will tear up natural selection
|
| Even Darwin
|
| Couldn’t see this coming
|
| Couldn’t see this coming |