Prophets

There's a height I couldn't reach nor about the wings that carry me
There's a feeling never found nor about the words to bring it out but then

Maybe I was better naive, or maybe I was better when I couldn't see

I felt the water over me, a cold and lonely welcoming
And not a sign that'd say I'd find nor the warmth of Messiah's hand on mine but then

Maybe I was better naive or maybe I was better when I couldn't see

I have seen a friend or martyr bleed
And for what?
For the stranger tied to us, with no authority to speak

Always the loudest who voiced only their ignorance (x2)

With no authority to speak

The rock should be, an anchor for the weak

Like this

A struggle of feeling
A struggle of guilty
A prophet of sympothy

With no authority to speak

Always the loudest to voice only their ignorance (x2)

With no authority to speak
And this is its reasoning

Maybe I was better naive, maybe I was better when I couldn't see