I just wrote to tell you this; I did just my very best. I went far but got stuck there. I picked up the pieces, I was your vigilant soldier but the mass of the earth just weighed too heavily on me. How can truth be opinion? How can fact be right and wrong? The familiar turned strange, good and evil unhinged. My utilitarian comfort unsettled. Consequentialist moral reasons categorically examined. Self-knowledge is a loss of innocence! I heard your call to arms, set off the doomsday alarm, but never heard back. So, I set out alone. I don’t believe all I’ve been shown. A quest for truth and fact. I passed a desert town. Uninhabitable pastures of ash brown. Abandoned structures littered like an Aerstan scene. But then desperate people appeared. They had lived in constant drought for ten years ever since pollution got the best of them – wiped them clean. So, I thought "I’ll take their curse away! Let them flourish, I’ll take the pain." I lifted their drought and went on my way. So I’m asking you, help me carry? I’m Atlas, Jesus and Hades. Won’t someone please take this weight off of me? The destination is obsolete. The journey is bitter-sweet. Logic and consistency do not mix with morality. Justify your atrocities, the trump card never fails. Remove the greed and the ego, and the consciences prevails. No longer empty-handed, I stopped at the coast to rest but found a flood of people drowning in a sea of hatred. They begged and pleaded "End this war! Have acceptance and peace restored!" So, I drank up all their poison oaths. So I’m asking you help me carry? I’m Atlas, Jesus and Hades. Won’t someone please take this weight off of me? The destination is obsolete. There’s nothing left but wrong with me. Global systems all degrading. I’ll take the problems so the World can breathe. And I have nowhere to take them so, forever they’ll accompany me. The future is much longer than the past. I picked up wrongs along the way, removed them from the mass. But I still had to jettison things to outrun gravity and not wanting to further pollute. I just left behind parts of me. I’m collecting your tradition, your religion, your depression. I’m trading in your affection to put us all to sleep. So here I lay, bent shoulders, broken ribs. I sink into the earth and all I can hope is to take this baggage to the grave – one more step I cannot take – by the time you read this I’ll have passed away.
Гуру Песен
THE AGONIST - 'Prisoners' Album Sampler 
The Agonist Perpetual Notion