[lyrics by Mark Briody and Harry Conklin]



I see the remnants of our past 

Were we there? 

I see no light, no hope, we fall 

Are we here? 

We see our aspirations fail 



I feel the winters growing cold 

No sign, no light, our lives are growing old 

I feel the winters growing cold 

No sign, no light, no hope, growing cold 



The dove of dreams is flying overhead 

Her wings are spreading softly signs of dread 

So cold inside the earthly bounds below 

Singing out her somber tales of woe 



Her sorrow covers me 

The somber tales of old 

The sorrow covers me 

Tis somber tales of woe