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The Poets Dance
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Work of Art
The rivers ran red and the skies turned black
The valleys were deepened and the mountains cracked
We are controlled by paper
In vacant shades of green, we trust
What have I enabled? Oh, no
What is there to gain here? Oh, no
We are the fear of loss
We are the fear of pain
We are to seek the new frontier
Or we will die in vain
The shadows of our kin lay fixed
Upon the streets in horror
You've got to go on
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What have we done?
What have I done?
I stood by and watched as it all fell apart
As we burned a priceless work of art
Like sheep, we blindly march
For amber waves of grain, we trust
What have I enabled? Oh, no
What is there to gain here? Oh, no
We are the fear of loss
We are the fear of pain
We are to seek the new frontier
Or we will die in vain
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