These hills arise with great anger
these burning cities grow old,
your eyes they’re burning with fury
and old tales by mothers are told.
In cold nooks the hopeless hide
life they live as a burden,
waiting and doubting until they die.
Why do we take it for granted?
Sharp corners on every edge,
promises we make,
“Oh for gods sake!”
we never keep them.
Empty Places, faded faces
Because of your forgotten promises.