Centuries of backward ways,
have many left behind us
Who can count the good men gone away
The fruits of all our labors
have left us as we started
We've come too far to end it in a day
It seems that everything we do is wrong
A one way trip to nowhere all along
Just look around and tell me what you see
Another stupid page of history
No one together, No one is touching ground
Look to each other, Chaos is all around
Same situation, Nothing is really new
No one together, No one is me and you
Lo the horn of plenty is bursting at the seam
The harvest of the world will be our prize
We claim to know the secrets,
the answers have been found
wrong
world
within
voices
truth
touching
together
street
still
signs
filled
without
claim
everything
drawing
harmony
better
behind
nothing
centuries
around
found
situation
cannot
sound
other
answers
before
bursting
closer
backward
along
another
fruits
should
ground
harvest
chaos
history
mystery
faces
labors
multitudes
victory
started
people
nowhere
passed
plenty
prize
realized
secrets
wandering
promise
quickly
everyone
meant
really
stupid
count
plain
searching
consume
seems
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