Mixed Up In A Massacre

Artists of fate,
Paint a portrait of decay
Upon the canvass of a beating heart,
Now turned still

As if waking from a blue dream,
I found myself in the heart of the crowd
"What am I doing here?
What am I doing here?"
Invisible voices whispered to me;
"This is the promised land"
So I left all that I knew
And followed the wandering tribe

Now I find myself
Mixed up in a massacre
Now I find myself
Mixed up in a massacre

Here are grown up children moaning for their lost toys,
Shadows trying to plunge the knife.

Petty theft of happiness
Jealousies swarm like locusts
On fields already devoured by white flames
Nothing is what it seems.

Like the discreet stars on a clear night
I began to hear things no one should ever know
"Why am I here?
Why am I here?"
Can I really ever escape all these voices?
"Indifferent son, you are lost."
Perhaps, the end of man
Isn't only inevitable it is also a promise.

Now I find myself
Mixed up in a massacre
Now I find myself
Mixed up in a massacre

Here are grown up children moaning for their lost toys,
Shadows trying to plunge the knife.