| 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
|
| When silence drowns the screams?
|
| 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 fear tomorrow I'll be crying
|
| Yes, I fear tomorrow I'll be crying
|
| Yes, I fear tomorrow I'll be crying
|
| 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
|
| If no one sets the rules
|
| The fate of all mankind I see
|
| Is in the hands of fools
|
| 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
|
| When silence drowns the screams?
|
| 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 fear tomorrow I'll be crying
|
| Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying
|
| Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying
|
| Crying...
|
| Crying...
|
| Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying
|
| Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying
|
| Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying
|
| Crying...
|
| Crying... |