Apathy 
Has an appetite 
A taste for blood
for the oversight

The kids have grown
Filling out their forms
Rectify
While the white ones scorn

This is us
a line of fools
Waiting for 
Everyone one to eat

A coughing spell
And a lying man
Saying we're alright
When he's feeling ill 

If this all ends
with an empty room
and a rusted throne
then we hope we won

but the loss is loss
and the time is gone
and this bittersweet 
taste of death will fade

Call the waves. 
Call the waves, on them