We stand up for our rights, those things in which we believe.
The dreams of the next generation - dead before they are conceived.
These same aspirations toward which so many have died before.
And yet this time we won't even acknowledge there's a war.
We live at peace with our basic life - the mundaneness of it all.
For who shall seek a refuge if the cards do fall?
My dreams shift every moment from plausible more toward false.
For to see a world free of this plague is to see one which never has been.
We die each day a little more, not aware we even lived.
And yet in the end, where does this leave our future generations?
