Perfect lines we're walking in. Sand the sides down until we're all too thin. Paint us nice so we'll disguise, Burning skin in whiter lies, And the rest of the world, We'll despise. Seeing life through hungry eyes. We're burning land to build upon. Until what we have and know is gone. And still the worker bee drones on. On and on the world withdrawn from everyone but the TVs on. Its all the same; These human games we play. Hiding from the path we stray, But seeking more along the way. We're never lost. We breathe in our own exhaust. Then we put our blindfolds on, Before we hit what's coming on. So we stopped playing all their games, And burning in their flames. We took the life waiting for us And turned our heads away. Because life's too short to be alone, And lifes to short to stay at home, Or in the same four walls and drone, On and on and on. We've been waiting for the day where we can say "Our hearts were not wasted away" Brittle bones and charcoal skin, Its perfect lines we're walking in.