| I stood alone upon the highest cliff-top
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| Looked down, around, and all that I could see
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| Were those that I would dearly love to share with
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| Crashing on quite blindly to the sea…
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| I tried to ask what game this was
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| But knew I might not play it:
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| The voice, as one, as no-one, came to me…
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| 'We have looked upon the heroes
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| And they are found wanting;
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| We have looked hard across the land
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| But we can see no dawn;
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| We have now dared to sear the sky
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| But we are still bleeding;
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| We are drawing near to the cliffs
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| Now we can hear the call
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| The clouds are piled in mountain-shapes
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| There is no escape except to go forward
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| Don’t ask us for an answer now
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| It’s far too late to bow to that convention
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| What course is there left but to die?
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| We have looked upon the High Kings
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| Found them less than mortals:
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| Their names are dust before the just
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| March of our young, new law
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| Minds stumbling strong, we hurtle on
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| Into the dark portal;
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| No-one can halt our final vault
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| Into the unknown maw
|
| And as the Elders beat their brows
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| They know that it’s really far
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| Too late now to stop us
|
| For if the sky is seeded death
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| What is the point in catching breath? |
| — Expel it
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| What cause is there left but to die
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| In searching of something we’re not quite sure of?
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| What cause is there left but to die?
|
| … I really don’t know why …
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| I know our ends may be soon
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| But why do you make them sooner?
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| Time may finally prove
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| Only the living move her and
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| No life lies in the quicksand
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| Yes, I know it’s
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| Out of control, out of control:
|
| Greasy machinery slides on the rails
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| Young minds and bodies on steel spokes impaled…
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| Cogs tearing bones, cogs tearing bones;
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| Iron-throated monsters are forcing the screams
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| Mind and machinery box-press the dreams…
|
| … but there still is time …
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| Cowards are they who run today
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| The fight is beginning…
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| No war with knives, fight with our lives
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| Lemmings can teach nothing;
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| Death offers no hope, we must grope
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| For the unknown answer:
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| Unite our blood, abate the flood
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| Avert the disaster…
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| There’s other ways than screaming in the mob:
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| That makes us merely cogs of hatred
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| Look to the why and where we are
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| Look to yourselves and the stars and in the end
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| What choice is there left but to live
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| In the hope of saving
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| Our children’s children’s little ones?
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| What choice is there left but to live?
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| To save the little ones?
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| What choice is there left but to try |