Too Late - Holy Sons

Now he knows the secret but it’s too late

Human eyes, built with a hubris design

Picking back over the landfill of man

Freedom’s just a word that you don’t need to understand

I’m just weaving through

The likes of all of you

I camouflage my stride

And I’m free of any pride

No, I don’t know why you’d race into such a futile chase

The mountain is so steep

And I don’t know what you’ll keep