There is no better cushion than the bottom floor, than landing on the devil himself. Look around to see all these eyes are set on me. A little voice said you'll never know just how you've helped. I thought they would be heading back home but they didn't move. This is a hell they face every day. I never thought being under ground would change my view, now I can finally see clearly. Suburban streets set ablaze by burning tires, your home streets torn apart by tank treads. Black skies are affirmations we mean nothing. Broken hearts mean nothing now; modem speeds mean nothing now. Waking up in the morning is the only way to judge that you deserve what you have, all my problems seem to wash away in the face of this, everything I used to think blown away when faced with this. How can I sit around stagnant and use my time for crying, how can I sit here idle while others they are dying. If I never write another song about regret it will be too soon.