it's the threat of the century
and I need to ly down
treading ever so gingerly
trying to find ground
'cause you know when you walk so long
in your head it feels oh so wrong

we're not alone
no
we're not alone

at the end
at the end of these long roads
we will gather there
with our hands in the air

in my mind it's a symphony
in which I rely
to get me through this epiphany
and to keep me up ... (?)

'cause you know when the beat is wrong
simple timing can be so hard

we're not alone

at the end
at the end of these long roads
we will gather there
with our hands in the air