New Year, new empty promises New love, new loss New hope, new disappointments Put this renewel under microscope Same old, same old. Whether it’s love for the game or love for the culture You always come up short. As we march away from our history We relive massacres of old-new Women still trampled Rights thrown asunder Withering almost seems appropriate. We draw from the fool Gambling in futures we have no stake in Housing cruelty and deeming it the hand we’re dealt. Borderline seeking permission to grow While our numbers grow out of hand All in accordance to a higher vision Yet God forsaken What are we, but children of this world? Pity for our Youth Tainted by sins of their father Adults bear blood on their hands For the sake of endangered lives. Independent yet incompetent The troubles of our forefathers Reluctant pride of our peers Kindness encouraged is no common interest. Was not there a harmony before history was rewritten by victors? We live in our alternate timeline Truths overlapping Same old, same old. Stricken of the fruits of our labour and scorned for irresponsibility Only a goood wouldn’t consider thieves and protect heritage from our fellow man. We entertain the act of humanising monsters and declaring peace times Ambition, delusion, censorship For, what is a monster? My time of creation and completion Each passage a reminder of impending end And though it is but one life We always get back on our feet. We celebrate the same old traditions Fall to the same mistakes and despairs Tales old as time forgotten and revised Same old, same old.