Down…
War of crowds…
We fall down
And we flout
The ways to out

Tell me the [bad word] that will ever real
You want me to pray but I want you to feel
You infect the mind with the false I meal
Whatever we do there is no way to heal

I doubt so much
In what I’ve found, so
I’m tired so much
Of this sore

Care…
I don’t care
Even if it doesn’t
Lead to perfection
Just tell me the [bad word] That will set us in motion

Tell the [bad word] that will ever real
You want me to pray but I want you to feel
You infect the mind with the false I meal
Whatever we do there is no way to heal