Its hard to fly, and get off the ground.
But everyone wants, that howling sound.
The one where you know the air,
is flowing faster and faster, around your ears.
Everyone wants to be able to fly,
too bad no one can jump that high.
We would fly towards the sun,
looking for answers like where we started from.
From above the ground,
We would really like to hear that sound.
Its only a vast dream, that swirls in our head.
But if to fly we would look down, and see so many things dead.
Im sure someone knows about wars,
but what are we fighting this one for?
So we look into the sky,
hoping for answers on why we die.
The ground is barre
Dark and All Alone I cry, as I watch the Eagle die.
The flame burns strong as we grow weak, the sadness clings on as we weep.
We are in a state of a mass heaven, all in Jeopardy too the clouds we question.
Embracing the moment even though we fear, embracing the hope and letting go in tears.
Groom the bed of which you lay, kneeling for freedom in which you pray.
Doubtful of the sinners gain, another question begs for another's claim.
Justice has been lost and fear strikes hard, fighting for what we call freedom has been lost.
Paranoia holds back the many in prison, the cage of steel who believe in Religion.
Two Sides of a River
[Old English Style]
As death's tight grip pulls thou in, thou are a slave to feel the sin.
The deadly black arrow pierces your heart, the night is heavy and is the darkest of dark.
Lies upon lies the truth soon appears, thou shall be embarrassed upon thy peers.
Thou shall feel the fear and embrace the looming lights, death upholds and the silence kills the night.
War is soon in the many days ahead, many too be tortured and too many to be dead.
But as the cold winter night returns, the coffin of the many dead shall be burn.
For no emotions will be sprung, the decade of the dead has begun.
When the two ends of the