In time we will find
We're so dissatisfied in ourselves
If truth is what you find
So appealing
Can I lay my hands down bare?
How can I pretend
To believe in ourselves
When I can't get past this
Turning on it's head
Inside out
Past the point of recognition
If truth is what you find
So adhering
You can lay your axe down to grind
The promise of a new dawn
An artificial spring
Consciousness dissolving memory
Writer(s): Philip Quinn, Daniel Neil Connor Brogan, Claire Miskimmin, Cathal Thomas Cully
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