The past is prologue. As I descend into the deep The honest fraud, claws at the back of my teeth A wise man once said What is great in man, is hes a bridge and not an end. How weary I am Of my good, and my bad. If God is dead, can we still find some meaning in this? We are more than an empty pattern, ripe with shame and decay The Valley of the Sleepers, are drinking from a polluted stream We are more than an empty pattern We are more than shame and decay Is the sky or the ground your captor? Do you contemplate your destiny? Is the sky or the ground the place that youre meant to be? And if your heads in the clouds, what good could you be to me? We are awake These words, they wont fade away They wont fade away A clock without a craftsman Hands spinning infinitely Our gears will never grind to a halt or corrode away We are more than an empty vessel walking a path of concrete Let us work to create a flow state unhindered by the chains of belief Morals are in the eyes of the beholder Ground culture dictates every move you make Every step you take their apparitions will beckon you Dont follow suit Wisdom exists in every truth they give but in every lie there is a motive. Is the sky or the ground the place that youre meant to be? And if your heads in the clouds, what good could you be to me? We are awake These words, they wont fade away They wont fade away Unlearn to obey A once calm pond is now a raging river Shaping landscapes beyond Forever changing seasons In the years to come we hope to find a pattern We can learn to love We can learn to love
pattern, fade, ground, every, away