From the stars to a canopy in our mind,
We keep discovering the sigh of the blind,
Enduring colours to fill the spaces undefined,
And often lost in the course to regain the sight,
Blended in the thirst to procure the atom to the universe,
Drunk with the symphony to discover the hidden element of our race,
And trapped with a struggle to advocate a begining of the sane.
Renessaince predicted the truth about the human kind,
And the degrade of the rebel announced a new mind,
We are not owned by philosophy in this time,
We are the writers, we like to rhyme,
And create a script unbaised of the religion and shrines,
The globe is yet a dynamic stance,
But our blood shall colour the world with a sync from this line.