We Are Thoughts

We Are Thoughts Verse 1 The Maker gave us sand and light, Molds and shovels, a covenant bright. He said: “Share, don’t hold on to spite,” But ash flared up in children’s night. Some didn’t grasp, some just forgot, Some burned and smashed the advice they got. And the more dreadful that lie became, The sweeter to enter it later by name. Chorus And we keep dividing the mold: yours and mine, In the world’s sandbox — fire and lie. Easy to lie, hard to speak what is true, Easy to cast, hard to hold the form too. And we keep dividing the mold: yours and mine, Seeking the guilty — who will start the line? Easy to buy, hard to sell, Easy to take, hard to find and tell. Verse 2 Years have passed, but the cart’s still there, Days to centuries, centuries to their prayer. Diplomacy suddenly became a abyss, The beast has appeared — and the circle is this. Bear or lion, empire or tribe — Everyone finds time for war to subscribe. For faith, for numbers, for a phantom paradise We give away our last edge precise. Chorus And we keep dividing the mold: yours and mine, In the world’s sandbox — fire and lie. Easy to lie, hard to speak what is true, Easy to cast, hard to hold the form too. And we keep dividing the mold: yours and mine, Seeking the guilty — who will start the line? Easy to buy, hard to sell, Easy to take, hard to find and tell. Bridge Cannons are cast, the bell is mute, Man knocks on the cast himself — the brute. Trust in numbers, love under lock, And conscience — a dusty forgotten tome. Without war no school, without foe no day, Without fire you can’t see yourself anyway. And to space, to stars, to a new paradise — With the same cliché: “Defend. Advance.” Chorus And we keep dividing the mold: yours and mine, In the world’s sandbox — fire and lie. Easy to lie, hard to speak what is true, Easy to cast, hard to hold the form too. And we keep dividing the mold: yours and mine, Seeking the guilty — who will start the line? Easy to buy, hard to sell, Easy to take, hard to find and tell. Finale The first man says: “You are my slave.” But the reflection whispers: “You grew weak — and gave.” A simple form. Hard to understand. And to know yourself honestly in this land. Sandbox. Sand. The hours flow. And again from zero — from the first tear’s glow. Simply hard. Hard simply. All as always. Gifts and ages.