In this Theater of Echo

The only discernible sound is the Ego

We are not deaf, are we?

We can hear a cry as clear as a cry

But the Sob of Endurance? We just pass it by

Look out!

The Serpents of Senselessness are not idle

Slithering not in the Jungle of Riddle

Not anymore! They are here, right in our middle

We sleep with these Dreams of Greed

We butcher people with the Sword of Speed

And we are still hoping pur Name brighter a bit, indeed

Is it proper to historize us as the Lead?

Are our children the Future's Best Breed?

Humans, you possibly will not succeed!

Where are the Clones, shall we rely on their Deed?

In this Theatre of Echo

We can only watch and let Time hurtingly go

Hypocrites busily doing the repaint of the Ballyhoo

Sincerity and Love are long lost in Limbo

We badly need them back to soothe this sickly Ego