Circle Of Illusion

Moonlight Serenade Breathes Inside Of The City Streets

Where The Cars Parked In Thier Silent Rear View Mirrors Sit Desolate

Cement Ways Cracked By Depressing Police Videos On Repeat

Street Lights Dimmer Like The Eyes In The Wall Beams

Hidden With Cameras Protection Meaningless To The Private Robbery

Flowers Following Street Signs Created By The Overworked Economy

A Circle Of Illusion Created By The Suited Hired Hands Guarding Ancient Grounds

Held By Relics Of The Nation, All To Be Washed Away In An Ocean Of Fire

Created By Our Own Ancestors Broken Spears

Washed In Natures Blood Ocean, Trees Decaying In Mantle Pieces

Burning Next To Our Own Coffee Table...

Along With Civilization Undetermined, Discouraged By Our Own News Stories

Bringing Upon The Final Words Of Natures Funeral