The Future from The End by Brooks Strause

The creature builds its nest from the ruins of our city
It only knows its drive and was not made for feeling pity

Tears were shed and blood was bled
Some are left wounded, others dead
And a tired song plays in your head
Like sweet torture

It isn't pretty enough to call it good
Though something in you says you should
A new thing stands where the old thing stood
It is the future

The creature builds its nest from the mud that was the river
Instinct is a gift you cannot buy with gold or silver

Say goodbye and move along
If you think you are alone you're wrong
You'll need hard hands and a mind that's strong
When everything you had is gone
So work on

The creature builds its nest from the corpses of your loved ones
Now you only dream of maybe pushing flashing buttons

• Iowa
• Other
• Rock
• Singer-Songwriter
• Kalamazoo