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What's this sorrow about?
Why can't we sort it out?
Why's the truth getting worse than fiction?
It takes a whole lot of clout and a need to test it out to place the world in such a bullshit position.

I never dreamed I would lie awake and hate, lie and wait for a new inquisition.
If we are built to destroy ourselves in fear, then why put up with the endless transitions?

Fear is always around, I won't let it get me down.
This world is more than a one supposition.
Suppose we're all just one mistake, deep inside a dream of hate, bound to consume itself since its own conception.

I never dreamed I would lie awake and hate, lie and wish for some new information.
If we are made of the thoughts in our heads, why can we not control our obsessions?

There is no reason to believe, to use a myth as a sieve, to call to arms based on weak superstition.
If we could lay down our guns and realize we were all one, then we could no longer call ourselves "humans."

I never dreamed I would lie awake and hate, lie and wish for an end to volition.
If we are made to exist or survive, why must we ask a myth for permission?

If we are built to destroy ourselves in fear, why put up with the endless transitions?

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from To the Ones My Ears Love, released April 18, 2010

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