The Song of "THEY"

[Spore]

There are different kinds of monestaries
And there are underground laboratories
There is chemistry and alchemy in all their glories
The victoms of the battlefields lay dying bloody and gory
And the holy men are locked in cages these days in this real-life fantasy story
And the truth is strange and stranger, growing stranger by the hour
And there are but secrets three, say the Mystics of the Flowers
There are but questions three to ask; this the wise men say:
"What is World?" and
"What are we?" and
"What in God's Name are THEY?!?"
Ask the Mystics of the Stars, dancing without a care
Or the Mystics of the sea who sail by winds of the salty air
Ask the Mystics of the Battlefields of the revolution to come
Spilling the blood of the wicked, under the weping sun
The plants, they were to guide us, and it has all gone awry
And the Earth is bleeding to death, and soon She is to die
And though our sweet necter of the Gods is condemned by those in power
And though they have poisoned our mother's milk and turned it rancid and sour,
And though the tighter our teeth will clench, the longer we must cower,
But "Rage can never heal" say the Mystics of the Flowers
"No, Rage can never heal," say the Mystics of the Flowers

 

[Spore]

And the Mystics of the Briar Patch shed tears for those locked away
Who will not taste the freedom of the salty air today
And the truth is strange and stranger, growing stranger by the hour
And there are but secrets three, say the Mystics of the Flowers
There are but questions three to ask, this the wise men say:
"What is World?" and
"What are we?" and
"What in God's Name are THEY?!?"
Ask the mystics of the Jungle, carrying gourds of wine
Free of wretched piety, but ever slaves to rhyme
Ask the Mystics of Feudal Japan, a samurai sword their cross
Slaying enemy mystics as their silence slays your thoughts
Ask the Mystics of the Fields, fed grapes by beautiful girls
Seducing your daughters with dance nad opening portals to alien worlds
The plants, they were to guide us; it is few who understand
But the resistance is growing silently underground across the land
And there are revolutions of blood.
And there are revolutions of mind.
And there is time still to decide,
But there is only so much time...
And there is a Plague of Metal now that is spreading across the land
Our Mother Earth is dying; she is dying of our own hand
And there are those who know of secrets
Which few will understand
And the Mystics who synthesize E are as three grains in a desert of sand.
There are revolutions of blood.
And there are revolutions of mind.
And there is time still to decide,
But there is only so much time...