And in the great divide, the great world of ours,
spoke, it told me the rivers don\'t run red with blood but our trash and
walking on water is no better than the air learning
to burn and teaching yourself to levitate.
Double trouble, more pain than it\'s worth in a universe silent.
Splintered in so many pieces, lost to the Sun.
I\'ll try to walk the road your on but I\'m lost in the crowd....
And in the great divide, the universe\'s voice
is born in many vessels across space.
They have sprites on their side.
And yes I have space for this, and
I am focused!
We are the second to none.
Embers in the sky.
No, the lights are coming
down! Invasion of my
personal vendetta.
On some land, and some soil
to call your own....
the maps we make,
are not of this world
they say but I say we made
this world ours in the map we
make. And not by signs and symbols
of our own fate.
We lose what the world is....
and our trial hasn\'t even begun.
Oh. Some miracles are blasphemous to me,
and it\'s in the cure for disease and the
blanket of comfort. That can be anything!
I just want to breath. Watching the world
levitate and walk on this dark ocean.
Some miracles aren\'t for the flesh.