Sigils in The Spine 🅴 | Temporal Abyss

We were harvested before the harvest came Saplings uprooted from unremarkable soil Hands still small enough to hold lanterns Reforged to cradle weapons instead They fed us lies with our rations Salted propaganda into our tongues Told us mercy was corrosion And obedience was worth more than oxygen Names dissolved into serial numbers Birthdays redacted from the record We learned to measure time In recoil Where did the sky go? Return the seasons that were stolen Synthetic ecosphere; our protection Painted in muzzle-flash constellations We were meant to outgrow our shoes Not our innocence Where does stolen youth go When it has nowhere left to live? Six silhouettes left nameless 🎵 The metropolis carved sigils into our spines Taught the weight of death before compassion. Turned a childhood capsized into a live-fire exercise There are still fingerprints of soil Under the plating A tremor in the sword arm When we see the evidence of time lost. There's no honor in displacement In ripping a child from his family Content to censor those who disagree Bend a fucking knee and kiss the ring Or suffer Where did the sky go? Where did the sky go? 🎵 Where did the sky go? 🎵 (Where did the sky go?) 🎵 Somewhere beyond the perimeter There are still fields where スミレ (violets) bloom. Within a polymer cell The zephyr carries the scent of copper I try to remember the smell of rain Before it mixed with cordite I only remember my family's screams When they were executed 🎵 We are not your immaculate weapons We are not your obedient myth We are the fracture of your empire Breathing and dreaming And we won't stop Until you're drowning and bleeding 🎵 You've created monsters And you are one in the same 🎵 Where did the sky go? Return the seasons that were stolen Synthetic ecosphere; our protection Painted in muzzle-flash constellations We were meant to outgrow our shoes Not our innocence Where does stolen youth go When it has nowhere left to live? 🎵 Home could never be the same 🎵 Six shadows stand where children should have been A silent contradiction, eternal. We can't take back what is dead. But we can give the killers a fitting end.