Sometimes people seem like monkeys with guns. Just plain stupid, yet some how they kill you every time.
And they say I have unrighteous motive. If only they could step from behind their thick screens and become what they're watching and ridiculing, just for a moment. Here the blessed sorrow whispered from the balconies of a play that must not be named. The swan song of a man burned for the same act celebrated, under precise conditions. This has happened before.
But they say this time is different. There's no right there.
Is there a right behind cries to the highest power- Pleading for an answer to their helpless questions? Something that had been argued over on earth, yet no one truly listened. I asked it one night, staring up at the summer stars from behind a window, as those familiar ugly sounds echoed through my mouth, interrupted by a delicate, desperate whisper.
"Is it right? Lord, is it right?"
You start to wonder where they get their answers, and if the one you learned was really true.
And there they are, running about as the poor wretched ape is sat on a thrown.
It's not their fault- Though why do they hurt people so?
The right had condemned the wicked, while we got caught in the crossfire.
Countless "holy wars" have been waged, some laughing at supposed stupidity while the subjects scream out. The subjects just stay silent, until the true answer comes through.
I like to think my feelings are sound, my rights are secure, that I'm okay and I'm doing alright.
Is it right? Lord, is it right?
And they say I have unrighteous motive. If only they could step from behind their thick screens and become what they're watching and ridiculing, just for a moment. Here the blessed sorrow whispered from the balconies of a play that must not be named. The swan song of a man burned for the same act celebrated, under precise conditions. This has happened before.
But they say this time is different. There's no right there.
Is there a right behind cries to the highest power- Pleading for an answer to their helpless questions? Something that had been argued over on earth, yet no one truly listened. I asked it one night, staring up at the summer stars from behind a window, as those familiar ugly sounds echoed through my mouth, interrupted by a delicate, desperate whisper.
"Is it right? Lord, is it right?"
You start to wonder where they get their answers, and if the one you learned was really true.
And there they are, running about as the poor wretched ape is sat on a thrown.
It's not their fault- Though why do they hurt people so?
The right had condemned the wicked, while we got caught in the crossfire.
Countless "holy wars" have been waged, some laughing at supposed stupidity while the subjects scream out. The subjects just stay silent, until the true answer comes through.
I like to think my feelings are sound, my rights are secure, that I'm okay and I'm doing alright.
Is it right? Lord, is it right?
No comments:
Post a Comment