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Our Story
We come from our father's soul
And bred from our mother's heart
To become the perfect ideal of blood.
A catalyst between time's jet stream.
A bridge bringing moments together.
All we have are pictures from the past.
Fragments of faded faces sweetly smiling.
They pour their ancestral wisdom down
Forcing our choices to become memory maps
For the identities we created generations before.
Our accuracy in our traveling destiny
Must be acute to avoid failure of prophecy.
Or else the eyes of disappointment gaze harshly,
Until we wither and melt into expectations
And only then can we relish in out defeat.
We sons of hope must band together.
Be brothers in this crusade of pride
To show our fathers, our mothers
That time is irrelevant to what has become
The prologue to a history that will soon become
Our story.
