Fabricated Progression

歌詞

How did we end up in this position? In a world decayed by corruption? How did generations let them decide? They call it progress, we call it mistakes. Our environment is something different. From gray paint and flower paintings when age takes away our parents and hair loses color from frustration. We've gotta find it. We've gotta grab it and never let go until we've conquered it. Thinking forward we should do something. Learning from out elder's mistakes. How did generations let them decide that it would be ok to gamble tomorrow?