Same Story

When the birds begin to sing their song
and the silence sounds from the talking trees,
the sun slowly rises from the horizon.
The light shines through the disease.

When the curse is spoken over the land,
will the monsters of thought ever leave?
Behind every stone waits a load of grieve;
How long will it take for the world to get to an end?

When the angels rise from the light of the day
they call for the madness to fade away.
The sun won’t rise for a world of pain,
so once again the sky’s covered in rain.

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