This is an age of new
awake from your dreams
break your eternal silence, as vile as it seems.
We are the men who strive to become gods.
Where does the fault lie?
We see all on the news
Infinite passion and pain
That takes us towards a lost eternity.
That nothing be to strange for tragedy
For muses sing of the death of our gods
Darkening thoughts in the hearts of men
Bring forth the days of man-made doom.
You can look out at a sea of faces
All in despair, and now broken to the world,
That they once called home
What progress has been advanced by all this suffering?