These broken shadows of memories long past,
forgotten like many a moment's pain.
Brush aside these cobwebs to free the strife,
that holds us down in vain.
We are the children of a broken nation,
following in step, line, by line.
Feast upon this wrotten fruit,
listening, with eyes blind.
We cannot stop what came before us,
our burden is ours to bare.
Yet we all ache to free the lies,
weighted tightly to our hearts.