We pray to a god we do not know and the faithless worship themselves
A life we do not want to lead, and we have no choice, we're next in line,
When all is nigh, and there is none, What colour is the sun?
And in their arms the hopes are wilting, technology takes it's place
We are our own demise, you see, The mask behind the unknown face
We are the small, invaluable, we're last in the race
I'm not sure I want to know, what shall come, who shall go
An unknown corner lies before me, seeing things I do not want to see
The youth can't save us now.
_A. Wed 14th July 1999
