| the who longs to scream to break the guided cage hold the words deep in the minds exploding guilt beyond those echoes which rage in a distant past | |
| traveling along time lines, tremulous, shaking, blurred by vibration of those ancient screams of agony | |
| Ripping from lies the very truth I can't grasp, Holding on for a faint echo Burried within the walls of glass, as the water leaves ripples fading slow | |
| And as these vibrations reach the feet of those silent sentinals, left onlooking with dignity, the blood of their ancestors streams from their eyes. | |
| This blood of the ancestry ever resides writhing me yet these echoes pain my ears to hear such agonying truth these echoes forever seem | |
| In silent reverance, their echoes continue in each generation's beat streaming truth to reach and teach | |
| to reach within that silence where memories dwell and within the mind where that darkness grows | |
| long and lost, searching to be found where true strength resonates | |
| Spreading the light and the truth so badly needed, before it chokes like a seed in a garden that must be weeded. | |
| Spreading the wings that transcend generations of war and incompetence Indecision against true wisdom pitted in the valleys where the hawks cry echoes | |
| As the last of the ancient willow's leaves beats to the ground; who will be heir to the throne of ignorance? Epiphany reflected in the jadded mirror... Lost to time through aged translations. | |
| Mountains arise from upheavals below the earth while molten lava hardens to create new lands. Metamorphic stones relate it's past to those who seek its knowledge. | |
| I hear the echo of your sigh, my heart grows cold as years go by. | |
| before my very eyes, golden hues emerge lifting up the world before me, bathed anew and surrounding me, the epiphany of sound | |
| Outside this convalescent smile, Reaching out for your heartstrings | |
| The echoes refuse to rebound and be silenced against these walls of ignorance | |
| For I hear the voices shout in the midst of the storm and I see the faces looking at blackened skies | |
| *A multitude of voices lifted in sorrow and pain, When will it end, when will it end? | |
| Echo's, growing fainter now, though never quite silenced as subtly we recognize the need for the wisdom of the past And as we cross the line between the then and now dare we question what was learned, put to the test at last | |
| Knowledge gained Wisdom learned past far behind, feel the burn facing forward instead to fill the gulf The Future gleams bright what is the end result? | |
| The guilded cage door swings open, letting fly guilt ridden thoughts, memories and dreams, no longer echoes of rage from a distant past. |

