A Synthetic Soul

Born from the storm

It's Obvious to all of us.
We've seen the passion slowly slipping from you.

"Trying to slip away."
"Trying to slip away."

We've seen the glint in your eye
beginning to dim down to die.
It takes a piece of me
with it to the grave.


It's not uncommon, It's a crying shame.
Never to be the same.
Watched you as you were
shapeshifting in your running shoes.

Watched your idle hands itching to lift the shackles.
Aching to gleam in chains SO bad.
"Don't you lift the chains."
"Don't you lift those chains."
"Don't lift the chains."

In every manner of any fall out shelter
at least we're here together.
That's better than hanging out around
graves and cages that Strip your life away.

Maybe it's better time fades
what I remember.
Fair weather friends these days
can't even survive winter.

Something to be said....
"Bridges burning, Burning down.
"The world still turning."

"No heart in their hate."
I won't forget those who lay in wait.
"Have no heart in their hate."
They want you to change.

Armed to the gills, they're covered in chills.

Throwing hand grenades like boomerangs.
We made it to the hills again, and I
don't know about you but it feels d@mn fine
Standing here with the chosen ones.

I see a fire, beer and a billion stars
In my ear, I hear guitars spilling
good vibe hymns on the wind.
No, No, No fair weather friends here.

And your idle hands are itching to lift the shackles.
Aching to gleam in chains so bad.
"Don't lift those chains "
"Don't you lift those chains"

Look around, Something to be said.
the chosen ones, the ones who were
born from the storm. We're born from the storm.
Look around, you're born from the storm.

Fair weather friends can't cast shade
on the chosen ones, born from the storm.
We made it to the hills. Fair weather friends
cast shade on each other down on Easy Street but not here.


We've seen the glint in your eye
beginning to dim down to die.
And it takes a piece of me
with it to the grave.

And You're idle hands are itching
to lift the shackles my friend.
Aching to gleam in chains.
"Don't you lift those chains."
"Don't you lift the chains."






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