The words all laid out on the table,
magic spells and treasure maps
scratched out by invisible hands...
Out into the storm she went
to soak in the acid rain...
Build them high and wide, these walls against the world
raise them until the songs of the wasteland fade to whispers
and become only echoes lost in the glare of a midnight sun...
He who lives in fear gives way to shadows
Certain of the doom laid out for him by the stars
A patchwork tapestry of fraying ends and holes torn away
The words once whispered to him in the deep of night...
Light shows play out along a gossamer thread
In air the wild ones breathed
A beast of many eyes is ready to lift you out
Should color lose its meaning, or gain it anew...
There was clay in the ground I clawed through
Pulling myself back to the surface
To sit in a rainstorm I longed for years to feel again
And I began to shape the clay...
Impossible sky of cloud and color
Pulsing overhead with the power of the word
Like a blow from heaven, march of drum beats,
Behind it waits the end of days.