Thunder in your ears, drums without a form
The rhythm is a mystery—a sounding storm
Flood surge twilight down
sweeps the valleys clear.
Beneath the waves of hyacinth, we disappear.
Shadow me tonight, when the moon is high,
And when I do not see you there, I will not cry
And when you trace the way,
turn around and go.
All roads will lead us to the end
of what we know.
So here we will remain,
to plant the stony ground.
Between the lines we sow the seeds,
and words are found.
And born unto the moon,
we are not anymore.
But we shall never know the truth
of what we were before.
And when you find the key,
You’ll know it’s not your own.
You are just as much at sea as I am alone.
Ice covers everything, and you survey the waste.
You think if only you had wings
To rise above this place...
But almost nothing’s as it seems,
See, we are only slaves.
And we float wraithlike into dreams,
Above the rows of graves.
We take the stage, then fade to black.
A time ablaze, then fade to black.
A page has turned—there’s no turning back.
Candles are burned—there’s no turning back.
We take the stage, then fade to black.
A time ablaze, then fade to black.
