I guess in Sarajevo I guess in 1914 I saw the dawn of a new age fall, I saw a mirror breaking. It's like a distant fire that was slowly making me forget that houses fall, but I had burned my silhouette into the wall, and I cannot for the life in me find a reason: an expectation, but I refuse to follow up on pointless calls.
I’ve studied ancient rulers and their powers and their armies and their lives, but I refuse to understand why wars go on and how the hell we're still alive: