One dialect, dialect, that of love not the head but the heart. one dialect, dialect, that of love what we've known from the start. Is the life we're advertised worth creating or just a way to box us up and keep us from saying this gift here we're given is not guaranteed and anything can happen in this age of speed. Caught up in it all we lose our touch no longer have the energy to give so much somehow we're told the better we'll be if we lose our happiness and our sanity. We read to regurgitate what we've been told as we memorize this nothingness lose lessons of old forget how to feel, how to hold, how to touch how to stand up for this life that we value so much. Instead we look for guidance in all the wrong places how to keep those wrinkles from bombarding our faces since when did we decide we should all be the same and those who aren't are wrong and should be called so many names. Oh how did we get here and should we go back or keep moving on with everything out of whack one thing's for certain we don't have all the answers no longer seek truth or respect our ancestors. Leaving the fate of the world to a group of heartless men when deep down we all know that we hold it in our hands I'm tired of all the suffering exhausted by their lies frustrated by our complacency and the silence of our cries. How long will we wait to wake up and take a stand as we watch and complain while they defeat our fellow man sometimes we forget through all the struggle and strife that in the end all we need to know in this life is . . . One dialect, dialect, that of love not the head but the heart one dialect, dialect, that of love what we’ve known from the start. Sacred is what comes to mind what i'm trying to bring back to this place and time work all the dimensions pay all my respects.