("My father's land,

My mother's tongue

Misleading me,

So shamelessly

For many years,

I misbelieved

The hatred is the path for me.")



Father I have killed many angels,

I think.

I will now walk to the sea.

I hope I will someday forgive me

Please moor

My empty boat on a pier



I can blame for the blue blood that runs in my veins.

But I seem to forget that we are all the same.



In your own blaze of hate you've spawn a fear in many lives

You've taken action thinking it was all said on the signs.

You cannot heal the feeling burning deep inside your spine

You now collapse, cave in revealing scabby marks of life



Mother I've seen too much, I hate to live my life.

Forgot every word you told me, stubborn little child, (angel of your life)

I have to find my Eden now, the gates I left behind.

But the pain will remain.

No power to gain.



Now I have time to dwell on, self-awareness, dreadful crime.

I saw colors too bright, not knowing that I was blind.

I slayed a man who took a chance and drank the forbidden wine.

The map I draw reveals that I have been complete, machine, in team.



Father I've seen too much, I hate to live my life.

Forgot every word you told me, stubborn little child, (angel of your life)

I have to find my Eden now, the gates I left behind.

The pain will remain.

No power to gain.



Mother where's your son.

When has this begun'

Who has been the fool'



No one was born to be a servant or a slave.

Who can tell me the color of the rain'

In the world that we live in, the things said and done

They can well overrun

The power of one.



No one was born to be a servant etc.



To leave and let die

To give hope and take life

Is that what you're here for'



To think you are right

To make sure it won't fly

Is a making of a hate crime



In the homes of the brave,

In the homes of the land slaves,

We are all the same



I need to believe.

There's more than the eye can see

All colors of rainbow.



No one was born to be a slave

Seek the past and place the blame

Tell me the color of the rain

No one was born to be a master



In the land we live, we die

Praise the oneness, praise the lie

To bind a web around the faker

We will need a true

Rainmaker



"Children of Abel, Children of Cain

Can live in harmony, without shame

The keys that I grant thee, The Sacred Land

Are dry desert sand on the palm of your hand

Without the water, the wisdom of past

Will run through your fingers, forgotten so fast

Thus now when I leave you, I'm truly blind

This blindness, this blessing, the hope of mankind..."