The brown and orange sky holds its breathe as the sun retreats to the distant
Horizon
And our hearts palpitate anxiously as we soon will lay supine
And wait for sleep to overcome us
And from somewhere in our black subconscious minds when we're asleep
Comes a haunting swelling mass of voices resonating
Its screams of forgotten victims and the cries of innocence
And the desperate plea for recognition and recompense

TINY VOICES, ECHOES OF OUR HERITAGE OUR LONG AND SALLOW FACES TURN THE OTHER WAY
TINY VOICES, HARBOURED DEEP WITHIN AS WE OUTWARDLY DNEY THAT THEY HAVE SOMETHING
TO SAY
AND IF WE DON'T CONFRONT THEM THEY WILL NEVER GO AWAY

The billions of tiny pinhole embers fade into a morning sky filled with poignant
Morose wonder
Waking we bear a cosmetic peace the verifies the turmoil which we carry deep
Inside

And from somewhere in our black subconscious minds when we're asleep
Comes a haunting swelling mass of voices resonating
It screams of forgotten victims and the cries of innocence
And the desperate plea for recognition, and recompense

TINY VOICES, ECHOES OF OUR HERITAGE OUT LONG AND SALLOW FACES TURN THE OTHER WAY
TINY VOICES, HARBOURED DEEP WITHIN AS WE OUTWARDLY DENY THAT THEY HAVE SOMETHING
TO SAY
AND IF WE DON'T CONFRONT THEM THEY WILL NEVER O AWAY

Go away!




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