The Chosen Ones

Until the desert grows
And burns the earth with care,
Until the worms had lost
Their smelly comfort,
Our bodies won't turn sane,
Our minds won't feel the pain,
But our fear is flying unconsciously
Through our empty smiles.

(What we need is a Weapon, to escape)

Escape right now
From the womb they've built
For your comfort.
We are the victims.
We have just to react:
"be our hero!"
What we need is a weapon,
What we need is a meaning,
What we deserve is a chance to escape.

We are just prisoners.
There we are,
There they are:
Just prisoners.