Open those eyes
Wake from peace
Orders are some favorite color
Same old same old is their battle cry
Why don´t we keep searching for a new flavor?

Our hearts have become a routine
Worthy kings have broken backs for nothing
Unless we cherish all with pride
The lines on our face will turn into canyons of sorrow instead of hope
They didn´t die from the cold without but they died from the cold within
And I just can´t stop denying that our brothers are in miserable pain
Stop short
Lend a hand and break the chains of regularity that you lean so closely upon
Your little Suburbia is in ruins
Tear down all the assumptions you hold, for I guarantee they are false
Sometimes the best feeling may be the one that kills