Tiny Voices – Bad Religion – letras

The brown and orange sky holds its breathAs the sun retreats to the distant horizonAnd our hearts palpitate anxiouslyAs we soon will lay supineAnd wait for sleep to overcome usAnd from somewhere in our black subconscious mindsWhen we’re asleep,Comes a haunting swelling mass of voices resonatingIt screams of forgotten victims and theCries of innocence,And the desperate plea for recognition and recompenseTiny voices, echoes of our heritage,Our long and sallow faces turn the other wayTiny voices, harbored deep withinAs we outwardly deny that they have something to sayAnd if we don’t confront them, they will never go awayThe billions of tiny pinhole ambers fade intoA morning sky filled with poignant morose wonderWaking, we bear a cosmetic peace that verifies the turmoilThat we carry deep inside.