the truth is we came here before.
towered the earth, were we ruthless?
all kings and serpents;
it's as if we were starved for lies.
but this is not where you were born.
cut from materials unnoticed, yet,
all glass and focus.
so what keeps you alive? what keeps you alive?
we've all ways been blind,
all ways take what we can't keep.
what we can't seek,
we only have...
the truth is this happens before.
traced and trapped maps with intention,
but found only questions.
it's as if we were lost all along,
as if nothing were meant to be,
as if nothing were keeping you here.
lift from these hands
sacred rites of promised lands,
the promise kept to endless worlds;
endless war in search of release,
in search of truth
beyond our reach, beyond our time...
and it seems so simple to say:
'we've got our backs against those summer days,'
but if I need you to call me now,
would you call me now?