The brown and orange sky holds its breath as the sun retreats to the distant horizon
And our hearts palpitate anxiously as we soon will lay supine
And wait for sleep to overcome us

[chorus]:
And from somewhere in our dark subconscious minds when we're asleep
Comes a haunting swirling mass of voices resonating
It screams of forgotten victims and their cries of innocence
And their desperate plea for recognition and recompense

Tiny voices, echoes of our heritage, our long and sallow faces turn the other way
Tiny voices, harbored deep within as we outwardly deny they have something to say
And if we don't confront them they will never go away

The billions of tiny pinhole embers fade into a morning sky
Filled with poignant morose wonder
Waking we bear cosmetic peace that verifies the turmoil that we carry deep inside

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