beneath the fallen sky feeling spent slowly

we're in a crack of time dwelling in a rotten century where the scales are turned upside down

clowns as kings kings in the clothes of clowns righteousness pointed to as evil and evil reign

beneath the cracked sky a portal to the future we the end times freaks we panic each time we watch the news

we search for prurpose for a reason to live

end of an era beginning of a new one and we're lost in the middle the more we know we know so little

and we panic with each tic tac tock feeling numb to the sight of blood hypnotize ourselves with tales of a presumed savior

beneath a ceiling that some people have only the sky as theirs in refugees camps freezing to death would God hears our prayers differently?

dreaming we dream of peace and prosperty we pray for those things too but we build weapons instead of growing wheat and building shelters hypocrisy even when we pray we sought what we don't work for

and i doubt that God would answer our prayers with these death tools we build

a rotten era indeed putting our trust with corrupted leaders snatching faith off of our hearts

but in a savior's arm that might never come we entrust the future of our children that he might be forgiveful as the tales say