My creek is filled with scabs and consequences
Souless in my testimony
I cannot surrender myself in forgetfulness of all things significant
Oceans of figures stand still
In fear of sorrow
They palm complacency in their pockets
Prearranged contentment
How many times do I have to choke back tears, years, trying to understand?
How many times will I trust isolation, trying to comprehend?
How many times before I walk away?
Until no heroes inherit the suns
Until no heroes inherit the suns
Until no heroes inherit the suns
Until no heroes inherit the suns