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

And from somewhere in our black subconscious minds when we're asleep
Comes a haunting swelling mass of voices resonating
Its screams of forgotten victims and the cries of innocence
And the 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 a cosmetic peace that verifies the turmoil
That we carry deep inside

And from somewhere in our black subconscious minds when we're asleep
Comes a haunting swelling mass of voices resonating
Its screams of forgotten victims and the cries of innocence
And the 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 that they have something to say
And if we don't confront them they will never go away
Go away
Go away!