de profundis

those who see darkness always miss the stars
we give ourselves no credit for good art
the world is not made up of mad bazaars

we are bound in by self-imagined bars
that keep us and our freedom far apart
those who see darkness always miss the stars

you throw our luggage onto random cars
and then laugh madly as you watch us dart
the world is not made up of mad bazaars

all our heroics have left us with scars
our faces each form a sort of odd chart
those who see darkness always miss the stars

we form the ash of some well-smoked cigars
and in the end no one will give a fart
the world is not made up of mad bazaars

in victory some band plays on guitars
a tune that sings in pain to every heart
those who see darkness always miss the stars
the world is not made up of mad bazaars