In walking sleep and faded sight

In countless desperate steps

Trudging crossed a dead end world

Clawing to the depths

Competing on the treadmill

But grieving where they stand

An ordinary circumstance

An ordinary man



They gathered all possession found

They consummate their plans

Bleeding at their fingers

From digging with their hands

They all congratulate themselves

But nothing have they done

Their vessels lined up on the shelves

But empty every one



The point of no return

The closing of the door

The coldest days of Winter

The center of the storm



Before the dust has settled down

Before the spiral turns a twist

Before the numbers of your bank account

Are carved into your wrist

One by one we'll walk away

And watch the towers fall

Before the season old in Winter cold

Makes cretins of us all



The turning of the world

Brings coming of the dawn

And all these days of darkness

Will be forever gone