Coheed and Cambria:In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3

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“In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3”
Artist: Coheed and Cambria
Albums: In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3 (2004)

A broad incision sits across the evening.
The victim to our father's lost war,
The restless children sit and mourn the graves
Of those they've never seen before.
Will they be buried here among the dead
In the silent secret?

The pioneers;
In dealing with it they march for dawn
of will and worthy.
The truth be told, the child was born.
Man your own jackhammer.
Man your battle stations;
We'll have you dead pretty soon.
And now sincerely written from my brother's blood machine,
Man your battle stations;
We'll have you home pretty soon.
And now...

Awake through motion with curiosity to curtain your first move
Over arm's length they'll break protocol.
Jealous envy for the youngest one.
To be the hero is all I'll ask.
Can I be buried here among the dead
With room to honor me here in the end?
You'll be better off too soon;
You'll be better off when you get home.

The pioneers;
In dealing with it they march for dawn
for will and worthy.
The truth be told, the child was born.
Man your own jackhammer.
Man your battle stations;
We'll have you dead pretty soon.
And now sincerely written from my brother's blood machine,
Man your battle stations;
We'll have you home pretty soon.
And now...

For you I'd do anything
Just to make you happy,
Hear you tell me that you're proud of me.
For them I'll kill anything;
Cut the throats of babies for them
Break their hearts for they were them.
Waiting for you to say, "I love you too."

The Navigator,
The Pilot,
Her favorite;
The one they call the Vision that Bears the Gift.

The Navigator,
The Pilot,
Her favorite;
The one they call the Vision that Bears the Gift.

Will,
Do the children really understand
The things you did to them?
And why, oh why
Should they conjure up the will?
For you, my love, I would kill him.
We're coming home pretty soon.
Coming home...

In the seventh turning hour
Will the victims' shadow fall?
Should the irony grow hungry
With the victory and all they sought for?
We were one among the fence.
One among the fence...

Now we're coming home.

Man your own jackhammer.
Man your battle stations;
We'll have you dead pretty soon.
And now sincerely written from my brother's blood machine,
Man your battle stations;
We'll have you home pretty soon
'Til then...