The brown and orange sky holds its breath
As the sun retreats to the distant horizon
And our hearts palpitate anxiously as we soon will lay supine
And wait for sleep to overcome us

And from somewhere in our black subconscious minds when we're asleep
Comes a haunting swelling mass of voices resonating
It screams of forgotten victims and the cries of innocence
And the desperate plea for recognition and recompense

Tiny voices
Echoes of our heritage, our long and sallow faces turn the other way
Tiny voices
Harbored deep within as we outwardly deny that they have something to say
And if you don't confront them they will never go away

The billions of tiny pinhole embers fade into a morning sky
Filled with poignant morose wonder
Waking to bear a cosmetic peace that verifies the turmoil
That we carry deep inside

And from somewhere in our black subconscious minds when we're asleep
Comes a haunting swelling mass of voices resonating
It screams of forgotten victims and the cries of innocence
And the desperate plea for recognition and recompense

Tiny voices
Echoes of our heritage, our long and sallow faces turn the other way
Tiny voices
Harbored deep within as we outwardly deny that they have something to say
And if we don't confront them they will never go away