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 enviroment is something different
From grey 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 our elder's mistakes
How did generations let them decide
That it would be okay to gamble tomorrow