Bloom

Too Late We See The truth We thought These lands fertile and free Such entitlement hateful tendrils should’ve been clear This is not who we are? This is who we've always been Too Late We See The truth We thought these lands Fertile and free Such entitlement hateful tendrils should’ve been clear Refused to see the smoke, but now there is fire They've added the fuel, we're stuck in the mire Where fear is fed, the wretched bloom, Into a hopeless canopy, Then darkness Such Darkness It may feel so anathema Blinded by our own authority Too Late We See The truth Of ourselves