All too soon we’ve come to bloom. And blown about in dusty ribbons. And pointed skywards, scraped the heavens, And should we end before we’re shriven Then call the names that we’ve been given. Grown in cities long since abandoned, Blown to pieces and thrown at random, This is what we see while standing! Long before the thought of landing!
Oh this world was made for ending!
Oh the storms that grow Oh the love we've known Oh the homes not home Oh the worlds not shown
By the blinding light our prayers are answered By the blinding light our fears are conquered