How can we all believe that times are changing
As long as genocide's a policy?
Remains of battlefields, of troops they've sent in,
Justification of democracy
The face of desolation breaks the spine of morality
Rain falls on seeds of sorrow,
A broken mind's soft elegy
Seems there is no time to borrow
Chances die where
Children don't dream and
Bullets corrupt the mind
Conceptions of the world are shattered pieces,
The broadcast's random stitches on human brains
The breaking news change with the
Flow of seasons
Time kills the names of all,
Of devils and saints