Shallow minds tighten the grip    Killing the last of the poets    He fell down to his knees    And drowned in the cold concrete flow       I long for what's untouched by man    I will dismiss answers based on nothing-ground    I forge dreams to uncoil       I long for what's untouched by man    I even seek answers where they may not be found    I roam these virgin soils       Atlas shrugged, I could feel    Clouds fell from the mourning sky    They're closing all too soon    All too soon       Leaders of crowds turned stale, unfit to move    Pathetic freaks endorse dream deceivers    Antique festered minds    Reduced to mock desire       Those who create should not corrupt their voice    Hyped is the feeble imitator    Seek and you will find    Beauty to be denied       Bleeding moving spirit    Man bleed the moving spirit dry    Bleed the moving spirit    Man, they bleed the moving spirit... dry