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Burn out these eyes eyes until we scream "enough!" Such is the nature of our struggles. Hampered by naught but our own sight of the laddar's rungs begun halfway up. But still we'll climb, hand over mouth, fist over thought, despite our numbers. Break the seal while growing still. Once more over the top, friends! And rising still the aesthetic of action we've idolized. Coupled with our position in this: a median within the din of a bleating servitude. Low enough to feel the boots of Rome, but high enough to cut the heel. What good are we now? Left in transit by a legacy of thought that acted very little in the name of the high enough to learn, but low enough to fight from the outside. Cut this to the bone. Assemble all yours. Call on the allies. This is the arming of a nation under all signs. Bring out the banners. Proclaim the marches. This is our bloc of many colours Aus Songtexte Mania