[[Verse 1]] They talk about peace in air-conditioned rooms, with voices as hollow as half-fallen dreams. Every word polished, every smile rehearsed, while outside the world is exploding at worst. [[Pre-Chorus]] I count to ten, burn my tongue raw, on every sentence I won’t swallow anymore. [[Chorus]] You talk about peace, about peace, like it’s a concept, not a goddamn state. What if you stopped lying to yourselves and made peace — now, right here, with your bare hands, not someday? [[Verse 2]] You call it patience, you call it a plan, but every process smells like panic again. I hear you explain why it can’t be done, while every explanation kills someone. [[Bridge (boiling):]] I don’t want words anymore, no panels, no papers, no speeches. If you’re capable of war — then you’re capable of peace! [[Break (everything drops, voice alone):]] Talk. One more word — and it burns. [[Final Chorus (exploding):]] You talk about peace, about peace, until it means nothing in your mouths. So make it. Make it now. Or finally admit you never wanted it at all.
