We Are The Sons

We are the sons of Sorrow,

Born to a world,

With no Hope for tomorrow.

We are the sons of Disease,

With haste all our filth,

Is passed on with a breeze.

We are sons of Temptation,

Our greed is our hunger,

A self-condemnation.

We are the great sons of War,

Such power we have,

And yet still we want more.

We are the great sons of Death,

We value our life,

But we waste every breath.

We are the sons of Silence,

We are feared in the darkness,

For our eyes glow with violence.

We are the great sons of doom,

Constructing a fortress,

That will end up our tomb.

We are the great sons of Wrath,

Destroying all hope,

Of a change in our path.

We are the sons of a flame,

That burns all it can see,

And takes none of the blame.

We are the sons of Distress,

Born in blood to confess,

To the wrongs of before,

Done by Men who're no more.

We are the sons of the Past,

Born to break,

Never last.

We are the sons of Today,

Made only to think,

And then fade away.

We are the sons of Tomorrow,

Born in blood,

To leave only sorrow.