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The Poets Dance
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The Author
Someday these cities will burn, sometimes I wish it were tomorrow
Could we stand alone as skyscrapers crumble? (To the ground)
Open up and swallow
Someday war will break the earth into tiny little pieces (Covered in blood)
Could it be at the head of the last stand where man fights hand to hand?
In the heat of the battle, when nothing else matters
We die to survive, we die
We die to survive
We die to survive
We are one of a kind
We are one of a kind
The maker's hands have never shaken
No blemishes or flaws
Passionate the artist at his canvas draws, adding color and dimension
He watched as we passed through the filthy hands over and over
Shed a solitary tear to flood the whole world over
I want to stand at the edge of our new beginning
Let the fire consume the dead and explode with a bright white light
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I want to stand in the ruin of everything we built here
Watch the rubble turn to ash and turn back time
When at last we are returned to the kind hands of the author
I want to be there with the colors and paint back bright the sky
Watch an old world die and a new one come to life
So you never spoke the words, I know you feel it
We are one of a kind
In the universe, we are one of a kind
I want to stand at the edge of our new beginning
I want to stand at the edge of our new beginning
Let the fire consume the dead and explode with a bright white light
I want to stand in the ruin of everything we built here
Watch the rubble turn to ash and turn back time
I want to stand at the edge of our new beginning
Watch the rubble turn to ash and turn back time
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