I love the song. It sounds a little like La Gargola, but has that Wonder What's Next feel there too. Can't wait to hear the whole album!

Work_part4

Fly Away

The song "End of the Illusion" critiques the construction and eventual unraveling of exaggerated narratives built on spin, manufactured outrage, and unverified claims, where polished lies and scripted causes sustain a facade until factual scrutiny exposes the deceptions. In the context of the Kamloops residential school story, it allegorically references the 2021 announcement of 215 suspected unmarked graves via ground-penetrating radar, which ignited widespread grief and calls for justice but has faced growing skepticism by 2025 due to the lack of exhumations or confirmed remains, portraying this as a "myth" collapsing under the weight of unmet evidence. The lyrics emphasize a revolutionary payback through truth, urging the opening of "books" and audits to reveal receipts and names, symbolizing demands for proof amid accusations of denialism and the fading trust in the initial story's "sacred smoke."

End of the Illusion

Lyrics:

You strut around like you’re heaven-sent,
But your throne’s built out of others’ sweat.
A cardboard crown on a crooked head,
Buying respect with borrowed bread.
You shout your worth like a battle cry,
But your echoes even roll their eyes.
You demand the world, yet you bring no swing,
Just empty hands for a beggar king.

All hail the beggar king,
Sits on a throne he didn’t bring.
Hands wide open, voice so loud,
Takes from the sweat of a working crowd.

You preach the grind, but you never bleed,
Living off favors like it’s your creed.
You bark your orders from borrowed thrones,
A monarch built out of other men’s bones.
Every promise you make is counterfeit,
Wrapped in pride but hollow as shit.
You talk like a titan, but you’ve got no swing,
A crumble of ego for a beggar king.

All hail the beggar king,
Sits on a throne he didn’t bring.
Hands wide open, voice so loud,
Takes from the sweat of a working crowd.

You want the crown? Then carry the weight.
Earn your breath, stop begging for fate.
You want respect? Then build your throne,
Not from the backs you’ve overthrown.
Your kingdom’s cardboard, your pride’s on lease,
A charity tyrant with delusions of peace.
Step off the stage, let the workers sing,
You’ve never bled like a rightful king.

I crawled through storms you’ve never seen,
Built my crown where the world’s been mean.
I forged my name in the dirt and grit,
While you rehearsed your throne-room script.
I rise by scars, you rise by talk,
You want the throne? Then learn to walk.
I stand on strength you’ll never bring,
A working man facing a beggar king.

All hail the beggar king,
Sits on a throne he didn’t bring.
Hands wide open, voice so loud,
Takes from the sweat of a working crowd.

All hail the beggar king,
Sits on a throne he didn’t bring.
Hands wide open, voice so loud,
Takes from the sweat of a working crowd.

Joyride (Omen)

Chevelle

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