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