Our lungs are fighting the infected air we breathe
Linear and square forms fill our eyes?
Seconds, all at count
and we work on its rate trying to raise it's bound
so our trace would be found, we go
The initial quest, the reason,
lost thousands of years before
we gaze at our will to explore
Advanced calculations
of microscopic to macrocosmic figures
and a sixth sense occurs
And we seek unvarying truths
using artificial intelligence
to re-invent the rules
virtual perfection in constant variation
Still our instinct acts in symphony
our feelings, our cellular
constitution's memory waves
in their way
on their way
From a jungle to another we grew
but now our will to ignore is confused denial
Will we stand our pride?
Will we justify?
Will we form a union between reason and life?
Will we modify our path?
Will we end our task?
Will we give up the insanity that retains our past?
Will we end this chaotic play?
We're on our way?
Our way
