The sun rises over the marble halls, While the dust settles on the crumbling walls. They sip their coffee, they check the time, Ignoring the rhythm of a distant crime. A pen is held by a steady hand, Drawing borders across a bleeding land. They speak of honor, they speak of grace, But never look a soldier in the face. The maps are spread on a polished desk, Turning the tragedy into something grotesque. It’s a game of chess with human lives, Where only the king on the hill survives. The silence here is expensive and deep, While mothers in the valley have no eyes to sleep. The ink is dry before the blood is cold, Another story of power, centuries old. The sky is turning a heavy shade of gray, Will I see the light of another day? I can hear the thunder but there is no rain, Just the trembling pulse of a hollow pain. What happens next? Where do we go? The shadows are longer than they were before. The air is thin, the walls are shaking, Is this the sound of the world breaking? The Peacelosophers, watching from the height, The Peacelosophers, hiding from the fight. The Peacelosophers, signing checks for lead, The Peacelosophers, counting up the dead. The Peacelosophers, preaching calm and rest, The Peacelosophers, putting steel to the chest. The Peacelosophers, shouting "peace" so loud, While they wrap the children in a linen shroud. They call it strategy, they call it "the cost," But they never measure the futures lost. A boy in the trench, a girl in the street, While the velvet chairs offer a comfortable seat. They argue the ethics of a guided strike, In a world they’ve shaped that we don't like. Safe behind glass, protected by law, They’ve never felt the teeth of the war. The headlines change but the script is the same, No one in the palace remembers a name. Just numbers on paper, percentages of gain, Divorced from the hunger, divorced from the rain. It’s easy to lecture on the virtues of calm, When you’ve never had to carry a bomb. The philosophers wait for the smoke to clear, Trading our lives for another year. The sky is turning a heavy shade of gray, Will I see the light of another day? I can hear the thunder but there is no rain, Just the trembling pulse of a hollow pain. What happens next? Where do we go? The shadows are longer than they were before. The air is thin, the walls are shaking, Is this the sound of the world breaking? The Peacelosophers, watching from the height, The Peacelosophers, hiding from the fight. The Peacelosophers, signing checks for lead, The Peacelosophers, counting up the dead. The Peacelosophers, preaching calm and rest, The Peacelosophers, putting steel to the chest. The Peacelosophers, shouting "peace" so loud, While they wrap the children in a linen shroud. The Peacelosophers... Talking in the dark... While the world burns... They just watch the sparks. The Peacelosophers... So safe... So far away...