I see so many dreams die, not because they didn’t yearn for life;
No, because the hands they were dealt pulled the trigger.
So I see young men and women, bury their dreams with a broken heart; thus, they turn to rebellion, just to find a glimpse of passion.
Fraud and prostitution have put on the gear of the modern hustle, and cars have become the highlight.
Why did you kill their dreams?
Dreams that had great inventions flowing through its veins, but all you do is kill.
Kill their dreams,
Destroy their hopes,
Force them out of their homes;
When is it ever enough?
Why is it never enough?
I don’t know which questions to ask, or if I want to know the answers.
Because in the end I know it is silence;
Silence to every question asked, because you have killed the dreams that had the power to roar.
Silence, because you are in a grave yard;
Isn’t it sad,
What would have been wonderland.
Be careful because these hearts keep beating, and each beat carries hope, and hope whispers life;
life, to these dreams.
You might have killed their dreams,
but you can never stop these hearts from beating.
I’m locked in.
The Kvng,
Arthur-Daniel.
