Man will always look, with eyes of red
upon their world in ruin, upon where they bled.
They will step on life and banish all reason
float in mistrust, and treat friendship with treason.
Driven by an instinct, living as the feral
becoming the threat and causing all peril
Spoken to, by a voice of power
but standing lifeless and dead as a cadaver
Because of how we act, we are the punished and the blamed
never held accountable, but self-immolated and inflamed
We never earn respect, never thank or salute
So our hearts turn to stone, when peace we do not pursuit
In the end, we will stand under the sky
watching the sunset with a never-blinking eye.
We will be statues of glass, that never moves an inch
and be of no harm, unable to flinch.