Let fame never find genius
And love fuel crazy sacrifice
Who nameless died attacking
For a cause forgotten, that’s a funny truth
That men specialize
For imaginary battles
That may mean nothing
For posterity, but the simple
Games of boyish dreams
Tons of bronze, statuses buried in the Sea
A kind of prostitution, to inferiority
You said it was rocket fuel
An inconsolable force to drive us on
I called it my survival-mode
My leap before looking
Of the few things I loved.