There’s a height I couldn’t reach nor about the wings that carry me
There’s a feeling never found nor about the words to bring it out but then
Maybe I was better naive, or maybe I was better when I couldn’t see
I felt the water over me, a cold and lonely welcoming
And not a sign that’d say I’d find nor the warmth of Messiah’s hand on mine but then
Maybe I was better naive or maybe I was better when I couldn’t see
I have seen a friend or martyr bleed
And for what?
For the stranger tied to us, we got a story ready to speak
Always the loudest who voiced only their ignorance (x2)
We know a story ready to speak
The rock should be, an anchor for the weak
Like this
A struggle of feeling
A struggle of guilty
A prophet of sympothy
We know story ready to speak
Always the loudest to voice only their ignorance (x2)
We know a story ready to speak
And this is its reasoning
Maybe I was better naive, maybe I was better when I couldn’t see