Can we ever run out, and hide in the shadows
Disappear and vanish without a single trace
Not leaving trail behind, to become ghostly face
Admit the rough torture of the fog's dominoes

Living in daily sins of irrelevant state
Having a bright future yet staggering the pace
To become follower and no thoughts of the space
That is shared through this world and to the heaven's gate

We all live in the dark, like an ant in a farm
Except for those few men, that survive all this years
Minds that are genius that strike wars and great fears

Claiming to be the next, with grandiose richness charm
Forgotten the next day, till the raising prophet
Is gunned down on the streets to companies profit.