What have you to say as we struggle to divide ourselves beyond the lines of compromise? There can be nothing quite so fair as the cigarette burning through the calmness of our cotton littered canopy. How beautifully the ash falls upon unexpectant, smothering, until everything is one. Once darkest essences fade away, into soothing grey, what you fear will be what you have taught: Morals are everything, elsewhere lies suffering. Natural impurities. Oh god, wake up. Wake up. It's nothing but a means to contain. But the system is failing. We're quite uninspired by the tale of miracles. Although, whitecoats and skepticism aside, we may require an exorcism so send the priest before our actions lead others to disbelieve. Which truth's more lie? That there was or that there wasn't? Exploitation has dispersed the weak willed ones, pit them against themselves. So which lie's more truth? That there is or isn't? And what have you to say as we. They don't mean to defy you. It's not their fault. Struggle on? I'll take pity on the ones who in names of unknown have been martyred. Created all the same's the reality but show me life in harmony. I'll watch it die. Eye for an eye as we all go blind.
Private Dancer (Karaoke Version) - Originally Performed By Tina Turner