Cold Brittle Truth

As a race We chase the tail of approval As a race Cowardice abides Dissonant souls And dreary eyes Measly lies And tensions rise As a whole We march to the melancholy drum And bathe in the scum Of what we've become Oh sadness, my old companion You, who tore me from childhood fantasy You, who made my joy a fallacy You Seldom is the heart In a place willing to give In a place worthy of peace You're living, at least Though you may not want to live As a tribe We cannot deny As a tribe We can no longer lie Or divided, and lost We all will die