Sitting here just sipping on a Courvoisier,
Slipping deeper into a suspicion
That everything ends the same

Each man might have a mission
To just advance his position -
Any fault on a decision
The competition's to game.

How much kindness is left at the top though
When you have a say of a child's fate
100 miles away?
Power can only make power stop,
So there seems to be a monopoly of power
In every type of way.

Old ideas can't simply step aside
When they built the rules
In which our world resides.
And, hence, the cost of possessing the eyes
That witness the confines
And qualities of time.

The weight of truth that's really not benign
When you possess the eyes
that create their own divine.
Be glad to simply be given the time
To cultivate the love
By which we must survive.

Consciousness could simply be caution
Confined in constant etymologies of thought
In proportion to what is displayed -
Experience an inherent inheritance
A defence against all the questions
The gift of foresight can't help but display.

How much can you trust mans at the top though
When he makes a play for a piece of land
100 miles away?
What good is left when you get to the top though
when you have a say of decisions made
100 miles away?
Does he have mind to concede his place though
When position pays in the workings of this game?
Will he let you supersede his place? NO!
He'll put you on the payroll
And send you on your way.

Old ideas can't simply step aside
When they built the rules
In which our world resides.
And, hence, the cost of possessing the eyes
That witness the confines
And qualities of time.

The weight of truth that's really not benign
When you possess the eyes
that create their own divine.
Be glad to simply be given the time
To cultivate the love
By which we must survive.