Black box recorder

I drew a line in sand

the heavens opened

washing away their plans

the castles they built out of sand

those stones they throw in their

own mothers glass house

those who cry wolf late at night

run away from these pleasant lands

 

in this paradise that was lost on us

where buildings once rose they return to rust

where cars once cut sways through this cool breeze

where green fields once lay

I see your karma on the streets

 

i wash my hands of this parade

the ring I once placed on your hand

locked in its black box forever now

the mirrors cracked as the dreams

are sucked away

the wind howls at night whilst the dogs

bark and fight

 

In this paradise lost on us

where buildings once rose they return to rust

where cars cut sways through this cool breeze

where green fields lay I now see the karma on the streets

 

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