The Quiet Storm

We stumble through life
Shedding the same tears
Forming the same stream
Asking the same questions
Dreading the new day
It's so quiet here
Still violence is speaking
I close my eyes

A storm is coming
A spiral of conversion
Broods from the core of our stone-wielded luster
Yes, a storm is certainly coming
Feel the surge
Rapidly we reach for clenched hands to save us

And we see ourselves for the first time
As the ones we truly are
As we bleed, as we die

Hands emaciated folds around our hearts
As we stand in line to leave this life
To embrace the fear
To wear the crown of an empire never meant to be

Walking in circles
Reaping the afterglow
A human affliction
Drowning the undertow

I'd rather understand from where my tears derive
To accept the sadness of knowing
And relieving the long lost hope
Than pursue the tarnished ways of man

But we exist here
And we cry at night