The sky is bright
But the Stars are cold
Like eyes, they twinkle
Ancient and old
Looking down on the Earth far below
They watch and wait,
And what’s more, they know
They look down, older than time
Staring at me

Hearing the phantom calls of the organ,
And the soft murmur of the church choir,
Awakened from sleep with a feeling she couldn’t describe,
She got out of bed and followed it outside.
A careful mist lay over her small town, a light shield of protection.

A lonely man sits on the side of the road
He sings a song,
La, la, la.
He stops, silence.
Red, green, yellow, red, green, yellow
The light keeps turning
Over and over
But no one is in sight, besides the lonely man

Daring to yearn for freedom as
the doors of your prison open
the view of white death before you
all of your small hopes broken
standing in a door between hell’s
cold fingers brush your skin
beautiful death covers the hills