Who Stole the Sun?
As a sense of contentment feels like prevailing,
heroes hide in the shadows because this world doesnt need saving,
self pity is the only thing that makes us feel alive.
now the newspapers tell us not to go outside,
but i will not hide my face in the palm of my hands,
cover my ears from the sound of the slow marching band
retreat behind the wall of mediocrity
and watch as the sun goes down on what we now call yesterday,
instead i'll follow your footsteps up a path i dont know,
wipe my feet on the doormat and call this place home,
deliver three immortal words,
and pray that you send them back in return,
now is no time to be afraid.
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