Our cradle

Our cradle is this only world
As cold and sharp like a shard of ice, 
Shattering our wishes and dreams
On the edges of tomorrow

Let our tomorrows fly
Let our tomorrows dance
For we sell our souls for nothing
In the name of fake idols

Ice spikes are sharp
As broken and shiny stones
We bleed on them, we shout at them
Though we don't know yet
We might become fire
Though we don't know yet
We might put together the pieces
Of our ancient wishes
Shattered on the edges of tomorrow
For we design our hope
With our carving hands!