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the wall on which the prophets wrote is cracking at the seams
upon the instruments of death
the sunlight brightly gleams
when every man is torn apart with nightmares and with dreams
will no one lay the laurel wreath
as silence drowns the screams
between the iron gates of fate
the seeds of time were sown
and watered by the deeds of those who know and who are known
knowledge is a deadly friend when no one sets the rules
the fate of all mankind i see is in the hands of fools confusion will be my epitaph
as i crawl a cracked and broken path
if we make it we can all sit back and laugh
but i feel tomorrow i'll be crying
yes i fear tomorrow i'll be crying

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