Makeshift Lullaby Moment Of Truth (redemption)
The morning broke with news both grand and bleak,
and was met by a sense of ignorant indifference.
When I awoke, there was a task I was meant to meet,
but was brushed aside and stripped of all its purpose.
And, just like that, it all became clear to me
that the dream had been pulled abruptly from beneath us.
Now I can't apologize for my inability
to remove myself from this blanket of security.
Because I can't force them all to listen
to what they've already heard,
and I can't change the fact
that they can't seem to ever find the words.
What I do know that where we are now
is quite far from where we were and,
if we don't change now,
we doom ourselves
to what they all said would occur.
We haven't spoken past the obvious
it seems in months, or days, or weeks.
I can't recall, it all blurs
as one single time span to me.
As we drift and float, indefinitely apart,
the only thing that seems uniting is the love of the art.
But what is overlooked and cast aside
in this never ending fight
is the fact that none of it seems reflective
underneath a different light.
And I can't bleed what I don't feel
just for the sake of a brand, and
I can't maturity to those too young to understand.
There's no feeling in forcing masses
to clap and sing upon command
if all they wan't to do is watch and remain,
lifeless, where they stand.
If I only knew then what I know,
we would have never come this far.
If I only knew...
I can't bleed what I don't feel
just for the sake of the brand, and
I can't market an experience
to those who will never understand.
There's no feeling in forcing masses
to clap and sing upon command
if all they want to do is watch and remain,
lifeless, where they stand.
And we can't force them all to listen
to the same generic song,
and act surprised and insulted
when they don't want to sing along.
And as we come to the end of all we did
resulting from our youth,
will we let ourselves fall apart
at this great moment of truth?
