Break the lines we walk
Paths trenched in the hillside
Trudged by all those before us
A beacon of the status quo
The reality it all reoccurs
A shiny new idea
Written in pencil
Shabbily pasted over the previous model
New and improved
Our heritage the weight staying us stead
Tradition the shackles that tie us to it
The man before and after
There to push us along the straight and narrow
Swept aside if to fall
Tumble to the bottom of the heap
Looked down upon as the masses lumber
Relentlessly towards fates inevitability
My pride, my folly
This the flag I raise
The splash of red against the grayscale
A chance of change for all to see
March not with me but for you
Steadfast feet to carry ambition
Marching now for the furthest of horizons
To concur my own mountains
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