In walking sleep and faded sight In countless desperate steps Trudging crossed a dead end world Clawing to the depths Competing on the treadmill But grieving where they stand An ordinary circumstance An ordinary man
They gathered all possession found They consummate their plans Bleeding at their fingers From digging with their hands They all congratulate themselves But nothing have they done Their vessels lined up on the shelves But empty every one
The point of no return The closing of the door The coldest days of Winter The center of the storm
Before the dust has settled down Before the spiral turns a twist Before the numbers of your bank account Are carved into your wrist One by one we'll walk away And watch the towers fall Before the season old in Winter cold Makes cretins of us all
The turning of the world Brings coming of the dawn And all these days of darkness Will be forever gone