In the sweet September sky and the world weighs on my shoulders There I wrote the writing on the wall and I wrote the words before it all And as the days passed I would not age and as the time flickered I held fast For I have seen destiny unfold and I know the story before it's told Stories of truth and divine intervention Stories of bliss and of pain Stories of war and the one last invention the story that's still to be told And on this ocean there are leaves in the water That rise to the surface to dry in the sun Fall on this wake the trees and the gun fire Ash stains like blood on the wall For I see no other way and wisdom still speaks stronger However insufferable the home the house that we burn is still our own And so it has gone as I have been stayed Eternally damned in idle restraint For I have seen destiny unfold and I know the story before it's told Stories of truth and divine intervention Stories of bliss and of pain Stories of war and the one last invention The story that's still to be told