A silent incision slices into the airwaves
And carried on living in grey befores
When marksman words fire like guns ablaze
And fathers sit out their child's toy wars
Conviction has become a lost cause

The Armada sits in oxidation
To let their differences rust in conformity
The pioneers all disapeared in sublimation
With a stale breath of finality
Who's to carry the torch as we march for war?

No passionate screams that the cause is lost
I cry incivility among the degradation
Where did the pride all fade to dust?
And will the children regain imagination?
When individuality is such a sin

Muted in velvet curtains is curiosity
The stage hands leave with no encore
The phantom plays originality
Not a cover that's been heard before
Of a politician's stance ever shifting

When one in the hand...

...is worth two of the President

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