Your Ghosts

Born clean, the last time You'll ever be free. After that You're defined by the lines on a map And the faith of your parents You see, your mortal enemies May have died in the past But they'll keep coming back Shaping your life through all you inherit What a time to be alive Small world, full of wonder You can travel far and wide Leave your ghosts at the border It seems we applaud Mediocrity. Why is that It's like watching the wheels come detached With slow motion perception While we fixate on the superficies The worth that we doubt Is within, not without An intriguing box can still contain nothing What a time to be alive Small world, full of wonder You can travel far and wide Leave your ghosts at the border Truth is not what you Accept or believe. The mirror's cracked And labelling each shard of glass Can only serve to divide us Clearly, see we're not enemies Choosing a side leaves You blind in one eye Convictions you hold will impose a life sentence