|
Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
We are alone on this stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of all the rivers of blood spilled by the generals and emperors, So that in glory and triumph they could become momentary masters of a dot. Think of the endless men fighting and dying for a God they're not sure exists. War and famine at what price? We tell ourselves what we're doing is right, But we're so f*cking wrong. How frequent our misunderstandings, How eager we are to kill. Look back at the pale blue dot, And try to convince yourself God created the universe for a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. |