And the filth that pollutes the streams of my Homeland.
Ranting and raving the alliences forged behind our backs.
The dagger digs in and I cannot breath.
The rolling mountains so green and full of life,
Why can I not emulate their attitude?
Vomiting and sick I cannot live here
Where the color gray seems to eat my skin.
I hate it here. I hate this place.
To rise above it all with my wings open and try to save
Dead city, empty town.
This is not my Homeland.
My Homeland is Orange, not Gray!!
What have you done with my home?
Who are you people?
I am angry and I want to go atop the hill and shout at all you people
The angry thoughts inside my head.....
...This Plum tree will mean nothing to you....
In a hundred years......
It is wasted just like all life
Within this sphere.
I am nothing but a broken and wasted android...
Much like the ruins inwhich I inhabit here in my
The Sky and Hills.....as sinless as the Baby Jesus...
Why do you make me cry? I know you
Still remember me....I know you still....
Hold the secrets I seek....
Oh God....To lie down and die with the sky as my
Shroud and the Hills as my tomb here in
I would be complete because I too would be with all those whom have
Expericenced this same death.
And to the West...as the Sun dies...
I still hear it calling me..beconing me....crying out to me....
Oh donít cry my beloved Holy Lands....
For you too are dead.
And I watch the Sun set....and I think
About times when things were better.
When things were very happy and idealized because my memory wills them to be...
Fuck this town.
Fuck this place. It is dead.
I am not.
I go North for the color Orange
Has never looked so warm...