In the garden of greed where the thorn kings reign, Fat crows in crowns peck at the harvest of pain. They sow seeds of fire on the olive branch plain, Where rivers run crimson, and echoes complain. Like vultures in velvet, they feast on the fall, Of whispers and wonders, they silence them all. The earth weeps in silence, her children in chains, While the gold-hoarding guardians dance in the flames. [Chorus] Oh, the world's a cracked mirror, reflecting the lie, Where shadows pull strings 'neath a blood-tainted sky. The flock's eyes are opening, the veil starts to tear, Awakening hearts from the slumber of fear. The jester in orange, with a fool's hollow crown, Sells dreams made of smoke while the kingdom burns down. Rise up from the ashes, let truth be the song, For the tyrants are trembling—the dawn won't be long. [Verse 2] The scribes in their towers spin webs of deceit, False lanterns that flicker, illusions complete. They paint wars as whispers, and suffering sweet, While the hungry ghosts wander on skeleton feet. Like foxes in flocks, they devour the light, Turning brother 'gainst brother in endless night. But the wind carries whispers from valley to peak, The people are stirring, no longer asleep. [Chorus] Oh, the world's a cracked mirror, reflecting the lie, Where shadows pull strings 'neath a blood-tainted sky. The flock's eyes are opening, the veil starts to tear, Awakening hearts from the slumber of fear. The jester in orange, with a fool's hollow crown, Sells dreams made of smoke while the kingdom burns down. Rise up from the ashes, let truth be the song, For the tyrants are trembling—the dawn won't be long. [Bridge] In the orchard of orphans, where hope's branches break, The reapers in riches leave nothing to take. But roots run deep under the storm-ridden lake, And the seeds of rebellion begin to awake. [Verse 3] The emperors' empires, built on bones and on blame, Crumble like castles in a child's cruel game. They hoard hills of silver, igniting the flame, That scorches the sacred, erasing the name. Yet the chorus is rising from mountain to sea, A symphony swelling, wild and free. No more the blind march to the piper's decree, The world's weaving new threads in her tapestry. [Chorus] Oh, the world's a cracked mirror, reflecting the lie, Where shadows pull strings 'neath a blood-tainted sky. The flock's eyes are opening, the veil starts to tear, Awakening hearts from the slumber of fear. The jester in orange, with a fool's hollow crown, Sells dreams made of smoke while the kingdom burns down. Rise up from the ashes, let truth be the song, For the tyrants are trembling—the dawn won't be long. [Outro] So sing for the silenced, the brave and the bold, In the hearth of tomorrow, let justice unfold. The world's wheel is turning, the old ways grow cold, And the light of the many will shatter the hold.
