Under A Dead Suns Gaze
Under the old sun’s gaze, eyes crawling back and forth across the barren earth
Beneath the hands of old graves, bones rolling back and forth in the quicksand
Enslaved to our familiar ways, exhausted to death by the sequence
The broken record always repeats
With clenched fists beating the dead horse, greed tries to bring him back to life, but he has no strength left to lift the hooves that rotted away in time, and the broken bones that build his legs, no they can’t take another step
Let alone compete with grace against all the rats of the human race
Recycled images washing down the walls of our brains
So stuck in our ways
I can’t remember how my skin feels from the kiss of new rain
So stuck in our ways
Lock the children in the warmth of electronic cocoons
We have to set them free
The blind leading the blind in the darkest of catacombs
We have to set them free
Loaded gun take aim and pull the trigger
Release my spirit with the clap of thunder
The broken record always repeats, but who are you and who am I, to judge the days of their lives?
I am the killer in the lineup, praying to God that I’m not recognized
But I’d do anything to escape where my sin and I coincide
Our filthy rags try to hide the holes we’ve been digging in our chests, but the bones of our brothers cry out from the beneath the blood in the quicksand
Ignorance has no bliss for ignorance is blistering our spirit
We are stuck in our graves
So sick of the repetition, of hearing the broken record always repeat
We are stuck in our graves
Loaded gun take aim and pull the trigger
Release my spirit with the clap of thunder
There’s nothing new under the sun, but what if the sun was gone?
What would we have left?
My God, what would we have left?
Our broken heart is stuck on repeat, but it’s time to break the pattern and set the record straight