Old, lonely, and endless light. Cold morning rises from the night. 

No smile smiles back through the glare. No voice calls back from the stairs. 

Oh, those wounds on your blistered feet? That march you on along that dusted street 

Oh, that dust gathers 'round your head as, clean, I rise from my lonely bed 

All the talking - this and that none taking me to where you're at 

Oh, as fine as the day is long 

Oh, my fineness, where have you gone? 

And I know I'm not to sing of fights I've missed 

But, alone, I've got to sing just to exist 

And to resist 

So you're gone now, and who's to blame? 

Left down here among the songs of Cain 

Have you gone on to their heavenly fame 

Leaving me here among the sons of Cain 

So, you're gone now, and who's to blame? 

Left down here among the sons of Cain 

Oh, you're gone now, and who's left to blame? 

All alone among the sons of Cain