My only cure won't you meet me? In the drowning pool of fate the moon and the sun still wait Won't you meet me? I suffer silently for our love, the jester has lost his dove
Hello, ladies and gentlemen, I'm glad you've graced me with your presence You're in time to see me wrestle with my conscience And staring in the silence
The only difference between Jesus Camp and a Hitler Jugend camp is that in the Jesus Camp they raise both their arms.
Through vast valleys I wonder To the highest peaks On pathways through a wild forgotten landscape In search of God, in spite of man 'til the lost forsaken endless. . . This is where I choose to tread
Fall. . .so shall we fall into the nihil? The nothingness that we feel in the arms of the pale In the shadow of the grim companion who walks with us
Here is the landscape Here is the sun Here in the balance of the earth Where is the god? Has he fallen and abandoned us?
As I'm stalked by the shadow of death's hand The fire in my heart is forged across the land
Here at the edge of this world Here I gaze at a pantheon of oak, a citadel of stone If this grand panorama before me is what you call God. . . Then God is not dead
I walked down to a river and sat in reflection of what had to be done
An offering of crimson flowed into the water below A wound of spirit from which it floated and faded away
. . .like every hope I've ever had. . . . . .like every dream I've ever known. . . It washed away in a tide of longing, a longing for a better world From my will, my throat, to the river, and into the sea. . . . . .wash away. . . . . .fade away. . .
Here is the landscape Here is the sun Here at the edge of the earth Where is the god? Has he fallen to ruin?
As I'm stalked by the shadow of death's hand My heathen pride is scarred across the land
Through vast valleys I wonder To the highest peaks On pathways through a wild forgotten landscape In search of God, in spite of man 'til the lost forsaken endless. . . This is where I choose to tread
Fall. . .so shall we fall into the nihil? The nothingness that we feel in the arms of the pale In the shadow of the grim companion who walks with us
Here is the landscape Here is the sun Here in the balance of the earth Where is the god? Has he fallen and abandoned us?
As I'm stalked by the shadow of death's hand The fire in my heart is forged across the land
Here at the edge of this world Here I gaze at a pantheon of oak, a citadel of stone If this grand panorama before me is what you call God. . . Then God is not dead
I walked down to a river and sat in reflection of what had to be done
An offering of crimson flowed into the water below A wound of spirit from which it floated and faded away
. . .like every hope I've ever had. . . . . .like every dream I've ever known. . . It washed away in a tide of longing, a longing for a better world From my will, my throat, to the river, and into the sea. . . . . .wash away. . . . . .fade away. . .
Here is the landscape Here is the sun Here at the edge of the earth Where is the god? Has he fallen to ruin?
As I'm stalked by the shadow of death's hand My heathen pride is scarred across the land
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