For when the flowers of awe burn to the ground others must bloom in their place.
Resurrect all our heroes from the dead
And tour them ‘round the world for effortless revenue
Banking on projections of nostalgia that won’t return
Like dummies, glad to be stuck in an illusion
It is no one’s fault but ours
That we’ve traded our struggling brothers and sisters
For an intangible mirage on strings
And the yuppie puppet masters laugh in the backstage
It. Is. NOT. REAL!
Honor the past in memory and worthwhile tribute
Let the past remain in the past
And abide by the legacy of those heroes we uphold
By remaining true to their unwavering spirits
For when the flowers of awe burn to the ground
Others must bloom in their place.