And so, it will be, in our final days,
we will ride
to the engine running wild
in our minds.
And if our last requests are cut from on high,
we will die,
alone, on the knife
of our lives.
I served the path to which our fathers prayed.
And if I alone can see this through,
I will strive to make them happy in their graves.
Crystal blue, it was, to our mortal eyes,
but the night,
in all her beauty thrives,
and derides us any
hope we had to remove that scythe
from the night,
who steals our dreams and with them screams
our demise.
I saw the ghost at the window pray for my soul,
and if I alone can see this through,
all I have and all that's left I leave to you.