| There’s a harbour town that looks out to the sea
|
| And a different path that looks like changing me
|
| There’s a halfway house that you can never see
|
| And an early mist that’s rolling
|
| Pull down these marble halls
|
| There is no truth at all
|
| Bide down these darkened holes
|
| Until your master calls
|
| Lay down your guns of war
|
| Your idols of stone
|
| We know what we’re waiting for
|
| We do not wait alone
|
| There’s a land that’s not forgotten by its kind
|
| And a row of urban soldiers in a line
|
| Dreaming of another place, another time
|
| And an early mist that’s rolling
|
| Pull down these marble halls
|
| There is no truth at all
|
| Bide down these darkened holes
|
| Until your master calls
|
| Lay down your guns of war
|
| Your idols of stone
|
| We know what we’re waiting for
|
| We do not wait alone
|
| There’s a harder road that finds another day
|
| There are things to do and see, and words to say
|
| Some things are made of glass, and some of clay
|
| And an early mist that’s rolling
|
| There were those who fought and cried before they ran
|
| There were those who looked in vain for leading hands
|
| And still we search for comforts in the sand
|
| And an early mist that’s rolling
|
| Pull down these marble halls
|
| There is no truth at all
|
| Bide down these darkened holes
|
| Until your master calls
|
| Lay down your guns of war
|
| Your idols of stone
|
| We know what we’re waiting for
|
| We do not wait alone |