we ve forgotten who we are as men make their own history still they know they are chained and bound by all the past traditions of dead generations so let s raise this bitter glass to us never getting through when i look into your eyes i can see you see it too for i know that you believe in truth i try to channel hughes though you doubt me inconsequentially it gives me more to prove was there some hidden grin within your face when we met last win ter our past still looms over us as we pretend to be friends we exist through history inquiry and knowledge acquired by investigation you re like some poor pharaoh no more meek tales of past seasons for tonight we must make haste you are the hunted king un crowned cars collide with horses like mere stings of civilisations those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it to quote george santayana1