Testi:
Forefather

What makes us human? Is it out ability to create or our ability to destroy? To whom much is given, much is expected. To trust the corrupt is to swallow

We never would have thought that we were dead. We were torn limb from limb. Let this be known as our battle-hymn. Our spirits rise from our shattered

Harvest the cancer, fill the sphere to the brim. It's overflowing with the thought of another. Don't fall out of line, you may find yourself floating

You gave birth to a deaf generation Visual talent is the new sensation The trade in value of soul has dropped to all time low Plastic molds are the new

to hand And we struggle through our lives Though the generations wander The lineage survives And all of us From dust to dust We all become forefathers