All Will Become Fine

Tavola degli accordi #303689

fornita da frankyguitar

Testo:

© frankyguitar
© Fran Ky 2024/10

All Will Become Fine

Verse 1
In the glamorous ruins of our once-great kingdoms, we chuckle at the whispers of ancient nonsense.
Like the graceful plunge of inevitable disaster, where dreams take a well-deserved nap,
The skies, artfully painted with smoke, carry the sweet perfume of decisions we didn't need to think through.
Oh, how long before those pesky veins of regret finally snap?
Tears? They’re merely decorative, soaking into the dust of empires we never cared to remember.
Children? Oh, they’ll be fine. Growing up in caves, staring at shadows—sounds like a solid education plan.
We build our walls higher, reaching for the stars, only to watch them dissolve into oceans of joy.
Surely, after the inferno, there will be calm—because that's how it works, right?
If not, well, the wind will just carry our names away, no biggie. History is overrated anyway.

Chorus 1
Buy what glitters, though the gilded mask hides nothing but hollow echoes.
But nothing will heal, nothing will rise from the ashes of tomorrow.

Verse 2
Under a sky that’s probably too beautiful for its own good, the air is awkwardly holding its breath.
There’s danger? Oh, but it’s polite, creeping up with a smile, reminding us of that tiny, insignificant debt we owe.
The ground smolders like a forgotten barbecue, but don’t worry, there’s no visible fire—so it's fine!
Decay? That’s just a new kind of ambiance, softly whispering, “Isn’t this cozy?”
The world’s a little darker, sure, but isn't wandering blind half the fun?
The blast will fade, the scars will add character, and hey, who doesn’t love a bit of uncertainty stretched across time?

Chorus 2
And yet they assure us all will be well, truly all will be well,
Buy what glitters, but the shimmer hides only hollow shells.
But nothing will thrive, nothing will rise from the deep.

Verse 3
The lungs of the world wheeze? Oh, they’re just catching their breath. Nothing to see here.
A thousand tiny fires sparkle in the forest—such a pretty light show!
The river’s dry? Who needs water when we have progress, right?
Where there was once life, now there’s an edgy, minimalist aesthetic of stillness.
The Amazon cries? Oh, must be allergies. Someone hand it a tissue and let’s move on.
The giants fall one by one—just evolution doing its thing. No big deal.
Flames? Eh, they’re just nature’s way of tidying up. And the last leaf? Well, it was overrated anyway. Goodbye, and good riddance.

Chorus 3
And yet they assure us all will be well, truly all will be well,
Buy what glimmers, but the shine conceals only empty spells.
But nothing will flourish, nothing will rise from the fall.

© Fran Ky 2024/10