Wake up on leached land. Deep sad eyes now. That's the only fruit of your improved generation. You've created my genereation to serve and to stand your standards of progression and of perfection. The children will try to reach out their dreams. A child will try to reach out his dreams, in his wounded soul. I see the blood flows down your mouth. Face to face with the barrel of a loaded gun. Do you hear the victorious song, do you? The trees have fallen, I'm the fool. I've fixed myself in a frail soul